


Obsession: Dark Desires

by hunter_king



Series: Supernatural - Wincest [45]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, Crazy Dean Winchester, Dark Dean Winchester, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Swearing, Top Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 08:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunter_king/pseuds/hunter_king
Summary: Sam and Dean have always been close. Their fathers had gone on many hunts together, so the boys had grown up around each other. When Sam goes to Stanford, Dean stays behind to hunt on his own. But when Dean can't stand being away from Sam any longer, he goes to see Sam at Stanford. And what he finds sends him into a downward spiral no one could have been prepared for.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the beautiful jdl71 for her work as my beta! Love you!  
Thank you to the lovely kirathehyrulian for the wonderful art she made me! Go check it out on Tumblr @ [this link](https://kirathehyrulian.tumblr.com/post/188499758699/obsession-dark-desires-art-master-post)!  
Written for the 2019 SPN Eldritch Bang Challenge!

Sam groaned loudly as his back slammed into the floor, one hand pressed lightly against his neck while another hand subdued his arm. “You're out of practice,” the man above Sam chuckled, bright green eyes sparkling when the light hit him just right. Determined to make a good impression, Sam used his free hand to grab his sparring partner's wrist as he brought his leg up, allowing it to connect lightly with the other man's back. He then flipped them over, using his leg to keep his opponent in a choke hold. “Or not,” the man complimented. “Get off me.”

When his opponent tapped out, Sam released him, smiling as he stood to his full height, helping his friend to his feet as well. “I told you that I could kick your ass,” Sam teased, wiggling out of the way when his friend playfully slapped at him. He was really going to miss these moments when he left. It was probably one of the only things he was going to miss about this life, honestly.

He was practically vibrating with happiness. And it must have been visible because he was being questioned about it. “Well, I got some good news today,” Sam explained, biting into his bottom lip. “I got my acceptance letter into Stanford. It's...a dream come true. They have the best law program around, and they want me to study there.”

“Oh my God, that's great, Sam!” the man smiled, not hesitating as he pulled the younger man into a hug. Clapping Sam on the back, he pulled away, keeping his hand on Sam's shoulder. “Have you told your dad?” he asked. “I'm sure he's really proud of you. I mean, Stanford, that's something else, man.”

Scoffing, Sam shook his head. “Are you serious?” he asked, almost unable to believe that someone who knew John Winchester would think that the man would be proud of Sam for anything that didn't involve the job. “Dean, you know that's not true. If I tell him that I got accepted into Stanford, he's going to brush it off and just talk about the job. He doesn't care about anything that I do that doesn't involve the job.” Sadly, Sam hung his head. “Hunting is the only thing my father cares about. Especially after everything that happened with my mom.”

A deep frown came to Dean's lips when Sam argued with him. Sure, he knew John Winchester was one of the best hunters around, and that the older man cared about his job, but surely Sam was more important than that. “C'mon Sammy,” Dean encouraged, bumping shoulders with the younger man. “You know that's no true. He's our father. He'll be proud of you.”

Again, Sam shook his head. “No, he won't be,” he assured Dean. “He'll be pissed that I'm even thinking about going to college. He never went to college. And we still haven't found the demon that killed my mom. Hell, I don't even know if we're close to finding the damn thing.” Hanging his head, Sam bit into his bottom lip. “Can I...tell you something?” he asked, eyes ticking to Dean for a brief moment before he looked away again.

It was obvious that whatever Sam wanted to tell him, it was serious. And Dean was here for Sam – no matter what. Hell, Dean didn't really have any friends. All he had was Sam. And that was only because his father and John Winchester had been close. Well, until Bobby had told John that he was going to shoot him full of buckshot a few years back – they hadn't been as close since that day. “Sammy, you can tell me anything,” Dean assured the younger man. “You know that.”

And he did. Sam knew that even when he felt like he couldn't count on anyone else in this world, he would have Dean. The older man had always been there for Sam. “I honestly don't care if we ever find it, Dean,” Sam admitted. “I mean, I hate it. I want it dead for what it did to my family. But I want out of this life, Dean. I wanna go to college. I wanna be a lawyer.” Biting into his bottom lip, Sam added, “I just wanna be normal.”

Dean had never understood the hype about being normal. He loved what he did. Hunting was his life. And he was damn good at it. Hell, some people may even argue that he was better at it than John Winchester. Nothing was ever going to make Dean leave this life. As long as he was alive, he was going to be a hunter. But he knew Sam didn't fit in. The younger man had always been more into school, and a normal life than anything else. Ever since Dean had known him. “Hey,” he smiled, knocking shoulders with Sam again. “Don't worry about what he says. If he freaks out, then he freaks out. You got a full ride to college, Sam. And whether or not you take it is up to you. You earned that – no one else did. And no one can take that away from you.”

Talking to Dean always made Sam see things so much more clearly. And yeah, he knew that he had to tell John eventually. But he still had 2 weeks before school started. There was no reason he had to jump into it. Then again, maybe it was better to just rip the band-aid off quick. That way John would at least have time to adjust to the fact that Sam was leaving. “You're right,” Sam smiled, dimples denting his cheeks. “C'mon...I bet I can beat you back to the house.”

Without giving Dean a chance to register what he'd just said, Sam took off at a dead run. He could hear Dean following after him, but because he'd had a head start, Sam made it first. He couldn't help but laugh when Dean complained that he was a cheater. And as usual, Sam shot back a quick _jerk_ when he heard the older man call him a bitch before they walked into the house to see what Bobby had made them for lunch.

**~~**

About four hours later, Sam was shouldering open the door of the motel room he and John were staying in for this current hunt. Luckily, it had been in South Dakota so he could spend some time with Dean. But John had wrapped it up, so Sam knew that they would be leaving soon to get to the next hunt. He dreaded having to tell Dean goodbye again. After all, it wasn't like Sam could make friends very easily.

As soon as the door closed, John confronted Sam. “Where have you been, son?” he asked, beer bottle held loosely in his hand where he sat on the chair. “I've been calling you for hours. You know that when I call, you answer your phone. I thought something had happened to you.”

“I was fine,” Sam assured his father. “I was with Dean. I just lost track of time. And my phone died. It's not that big of a deal.” Sure, Sam knew that it was a big deal to John, but he wasn't in the mood to fight about this right now. “I'm home now. I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again.”

Although he didn't like Sam's tone, John let it drop. At least if Sam was hanging out with other hunters, he might get a new found love for the job. “What were you and the Singer boy doing?” John asked, knowing that the two of them were known to get into some trouble if they weren't watched properly. And honestly, John wasn't sure Bobby could do a well enough job of watching his son. Not after everything that happened between them in the last few months. John was actually a little surprised Sam was even allowed in the house. Lord knew he wasn't.

The last thing Sam wanted to talk about right now was what he and Dean had been doing. Sam _really_ didn't want to have this conversation right now. But he knew that it was inevitable. “We were, uh, just running drills,” Sam answered with a shrug. “And talking about school.”

A deep frown came to John's lips when Sam mentioned school. “School?” John asked, brows knitting in confusion. “School has been out for weeks. And Dean hasn't been in school in quite some time. So, what could the two of you possibly have to talk about? Especially since you've graduated.” Finally – words couldn't express how happy John was about that. Now he didn't have to worry about getting Sam enrolled into classes when they needed to leave town. Everything was going to be so much more convenient now.

It was now or never. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe John would be happy about Sam's full ride to college. Of course, Sam didn't think that was the case. More than likely, it was going to cause an argument, but Dean was right about one thing – John needed to know. “I got accepted into college,” Sam blurted out, watching the way John's face changed at the news. “It's Stanford, Sir. I worked really hard for this, and they're extending me a scholarship to their law program. It's one of the best in the United States. And I'm going...Sir.”

Anger bubbled up inside of John when Sam told him with finality that he was going. As if John Winchester was going to let his son go to college. The work they were doing here was so much more important that school. And law school? They faced monsters every day that should have made Sam realize that people weren't the real problem with this world. “You're not going to college, Sam,” John assured him with a shake of his head.

Now, it was Sam's turn to become angry. “You can't stop me,” he assured the older Winchester. “The new semester starts in a couple of weeks, and I'm going. This is an opportunity that I can't pass up. I need to worry about my future!”

“Your future?!” John boomed, pushing himself out of his chair. “What about the job, Sam?! This demon we're after _killed_ your mother! And who knows how many other people! He breaks apart families! He rips people's lives apart! And you're just going to throw all of that away because you want to be a lawyer?! There are _real_ monsters in this world, Sam! College is a waste of time! And we don't have time to waste! Every day we don't find this demon, we're leaving him open to attack again! You're a hunter, Sam!”

Unable to keep his emotions in check, Sam shouted, “I don't want to be a hunter!” His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and he could see the look of hurt on his father's face, but he wanted to be honest. “I want to be normal. I can help put killers behind bars. I can be...safe.” He knew that it was a low blow, but Sam wanted this conversation to end. “Mom would want me to live a normal life.”

At the mention of Mary, John felt his heart sink. Deep down, he knew that she wouldn't have wanted her son to grow up the way he had. John had been more focused on catching his wife's killer than worrying about his son. But he made sure that he kept Sam safe. And Sam wasn't safe if he was going off on his own. “Yeah, well, your mom isn't here anymore. Because that demon _took_ her from us. And I forbid you to go to some stupid college and forget about her!”

Angrily, Sam shouted, “I would _never_ forget about Mom! But I also am not going to stop living my life! Her life ended, but she wouldn't want that for me!” Grabbing his bags, Sam started throwing the few things he'd unpacked into it, slinging it over his shoulder and moving to the door. He wasn't going to let John talk him out of this. Or guilt him into staying. He'd made up his mind. He was going to college.

John was helpless to do much of anything as he watched his son pack up his belongings. He thought that when Sam was done with school, things were going to get better. They'd have more time together, and Sam wouldn't have to worry about homework. But clearly, he'd been sadly mistaken. When Sam's hand landed on the door knob, John pointed a finger at him, a deep frown on his lips. “If you walk out that door, don't you _ever_ come back!” John warned as a last ditch effort to keep Sam inside this room.

Those words cut like a knife. Sam was sure that if he hadn't gotten so good at hiding his emotions over the years, he would have visibly flinched. Instead, Sam steeled his features, sparing his father one last defiant glance before he walked out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind himself. 

Once Sam was outside, he started to panic. He didn't have a car. He had no money on him. Sure, he had a couple of credit cards that John had given him for emergency purposes, but he wasn't too keen on the idea of committing credit card fraud – he never had been, honestly. But Sam knew that he needed to get out of here. He wasn't feeling well – he felt hot.

So, Sam did the only thing he could think of doing in a situation like this. He called Dean. “Hey, Dean, I didn't wake you up, did I?” Sam greeted, smiling softly when Dean assured him that he hadn't. “So...I, uh, I took your advice. I told my dad that I'm going to college.” There was a pause as Dean spoke. “It didn't go so well, actually. Look, I, uh, I left the motel. Can...you come get me? Please?”

Less than fifteen minutes later, Dean was pulling up to the bus stop where Sam was waiting for him. “Get in,” Dean ordered, eyes searching Sam's face when the younger man did as he was told. “Did he hurt you?” Dean demanded. He didn't think John Winchester ever raised his hand to his son, but Dean was aware the man had a temper. 

Shaking his head, Sam tossed his bag into the back seat. “No, he didn't,” he promised with a humorless chuckle. “At least not physically.” Sad, champagne hazel eyes ticked up to meet concerned jade green. “Can we just get out of here? Please? I don't wanna be here anymore.”

Without another word, Dean hit the gas pedal, taking Sam back to the salvage yard. He wasn't about to let Sam rent a motel room right now. It was obvious that the younger man was hurting, and Dean wanted to be there for him. But honestly, Dean wasn't even sure what to say. It wasn't like he was thrilled with the idea of Sam going to college, either. He had been hoping that Sam would be his hunting partner when he was done with school. But that clearly wasn't happening now. 

“Dean, you really don't have to let me stay here,” Sam argued as Dean shouldered the door to the house open. “I can go get a motel room. I just wanted someone to talk to for a little while. I feel like I'm imposing on you and Bobby.”

When Sam argued with him, Dean rolled his eyes, closing the door behind the younger man. “You're not going to get a motel room, Sam,” he assured the younger man. “You can stay here as long as you need to. Dad doesn't care if you're here, I promise.” And when Bobby found out what an asshole John had been to Sam about his schooling, it would give the other man just one more reason to be pissed at John Winchester. As if Bobby really needed another reason.

Like always, Sam felt safe when Dean told him that he could stay here. That hadn't really been his intention when he called Dean. But he was grateful that the older man was such a good friend. “Thanks, Dean,” Sam smiled, dimples denting his cheeks. “I can sleep on the cot. I mean, I don't want you to have to sleep there because of me.”

Smirking, Dean pushed past Sam and headed up the stairs. “Oh, you're sleeping on the cot,” he assured the younger man playfully. “I'm not throwing out my back sleeping on that thing. You're younger than me. And it's my bed.”

Now, it was Sam's turn to smile as he followed Dean up the stairs. “Fine,” he answered, not throwing any heat behind it. “Jerk.” His smile widened when Dean shot back his usual _bitch_ remark. It was amazing how much Sam was already starting to feel. It had only been an hour since John had basically thrown Sam out of his life, but Dean had managed to make him feel like nothing was wrong. It was amazing how the older man had that ability. Even if Sam did have to sleep on the cot.

**~~**

The next two weeks seemed like they flew by. It was just a little after 12:30 when Dean pulled up outside of the Stanford campus. Sam was mesmerized by the beauty of the scene around him. He almost couldn't believe this was real. And although he didn't really want to leave Dean, he knew this is what he needed to do.

“Are you sure this is really what you want, Sammy?” Dean asked, brows knit as he stared at the massive campus. “It's not too late to change your mind. We can blow this Popsicle stand and get on the road. I know there's a possible hunt a couple states over.” Dean was actually headed there next.

Although Sam was a little bit scared about starting this new chapter in his life, he knew this is what he wanted. Sam loved school. And he had always wanted to be a lawyer. This was his opportunity. “No, Dean, I'm good,” he assured the older man. “This is what I want. Thanks for everything you've done for me the last two weeks. And thank Bobby again for me. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

Smiling, Dean nodded. “Yeah, don't worry about it. What are friends for?” His chest felt tight. He didn't want to let Sam get out of this car. “Good luck, Sammy,” he smiled. As Sam opened the door, Dean leaned into the passenger seat, watching the younger man exit. “Don't be a stranger, all right? If you need anything, just call me.”

Now, it was Sam's turn to smile, dimples denting his cheeks. “I will,” he assured the older man. “Be careful, Dean. You don't be a stranger either. Make sure you call me sometimes so I can check up on you.” He really hated that Dean was staying in the business. But he knew that he wasn't going to talk the older man out of that. 

He watched as Dean drove off, disappearing from his view. When Sam turned back to the school, he felt butterflies in his stomach. Quickly, he pinched himself, smiling when pain shot through his arm. Yep, this wasn't a dream. This was real life – and Sam couldn't wait to get started.


	2. Chapter Two

“Sam!” came a voice from the other room, causing the young Winchester to jump. He'd been so lost in his research that he hadn't even known anyone was calling for him. “Get a move on, would you? We were supposed to be there like fifteen minutes ago.” Sighing, Sam pushed himself from his seated position, stretching his aching muscles. “Sam! You coming or what?”

Poking his head around the corner, Sam took in the sight of his beautiful girlfriend, Jessica Moore. They'd been dating for a little over two years now and Sam couldn't get over how lucky he was for finding her. It was a period in his life when he really needed a friend – Dean hadn't been answering his calls, and Sam feared the worst. But it wasn't like he could just call up his father and ask about Dean, so Sam was at a loss. Jess helped him through a lot of that. “Do I have to?” he asked, taking in her sexy nurse costume. There were so many things he could do with that costume here in their apartment.

Barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Jessica exclaimed, “Yes!” She'd been trying to get Sam to go to this Halloween party for weeks now. She knew that Sam didn't like the holiday, but the man had a tendency to lock himself away and get too focused on school. He needed to get out more. And Jessica was more than happy to help with that. “It'll be fun.” She smiled widely as Sam walked into the room, eyes raking over his body. “And where is your costume?”

Costume? Sam knew Jessica had to be kidding. He'd been telling her for weeks that he wasn't even going to this thing. But she was just about as stubborn as he was, and she wasn't about to let this drop – Sam knew that. Just like he knew he wasn't getting out of this party. But that didn't mean he couldn't try. Ducking his head, he laughed, shaking his head. “You know how I feel about Halloween,” he reminded, giving his girlfriend his best puppy eyes. But he was doomed before he even came into the room.

**~~**

The music blared around him as he stared at the decorations littering the walls. Luis was off getting them more shots, and he could hear Jessica going on about how well he'd done on his LSATs. But there was something more important right now that had caught Sam's eye. He wasn't 100% sure of what he was seeing, but there was a man in the crowd who looked a lot like someone he knew – someone he'd been longing to see for years. 

Without thinking, Sam pushed himself out of his chair, moving through the crowd of dancing bodies toward the man he had his sights on. When he got close enough, Sam gripped the man's shoulder, turning him so that he could see his face. He felt all of the air rush from his lungs when those familiar jade green eyes landed on him – that cocky smirk pulling at those tantalizing lips. “Dean?” Sam breathed, brows knit in confusion. 

A wide smile came to Dean's lips when he saw Sam. “Sammy!” he greeted, pulling the younger man into a tight embrace. “I've been lookin' for you.” Actually, he'd known exactly where Sam was – and where he was going to be this evening. And if there was one thing Dean wasn't going to pass up, it was a party. “You and I gotta talk.”

They had to talk?! That was the understatement of the year! Sam had been worried that Dean was dead, and now he just showed up at his school? That made no sense! And Sam definitely had a few things he wanted to say to the older man, that was for sure. 

Just as Sam was about to respond, Jessica walked over. “Sam, what the hell?” she asked, frowning at Sam, then Dean. “Is everything okay?” she asked as she moved closer to Sam, pressing her body as close as humanly possible as she eyed Dean up and down. There was something about this situation that just made her feel uncomfortable.

It was obvious that Jessica was a little freaked out about how Sam just just gotten up from the table and walked into the crowd. He'd explain more in depth later. Right now, he just wanted to catch up with Dean. “Yeah, Jessica, it's fine,” he assured her. “This is Dean.” His eyes ticked up to meet Dean's then as he introduced, “Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”

Girlfriend? Wow, Dean wasn't sure how he'd missed that one. Eying her up and down, Dean took in the fact that she was in a skanky costume, which led him to believe that she was just like all of these other college girls. And she sure as hell wasn't good enough for Sam. But that wasn't what he was here about. Not right now, anyway. He could hear Jessica rattling on about something, but he wasn't really paying attention. All he cared about at the moment was Sam. “It's nice to meet you,” Dean smiled at Jessica, eyes ticking to her before they returned to Sam. “But Sam and I really need to talk. Alone.”

Although Dean was being extremely rude to Jessica – which was really out of character for Dean – Sam didn't say anything about it. He needed to talk to Dean, too. He needed answers. And he wasn't going to get that if Jessica was here. “Yeah, it's okay Jess,” he assured his girlfriend. “Just go find Luis. I'll catch up with you guys later.”

After a quick peck on the lips from Jessica, Sam was leading Dean out the back doors of the bar into an alley. When the door slammed closed behind them, Sam glared at Dean, giving the older man his best bitch face. “What the hell, Dean?” Sam snapped, not even sure where he wanted to begin. And Dean was just standing there acting like there wasn't anything wrong, and it just pissed Sam off. “Where the hell have you been?! I thought something had happened to you!”

Oh, if only Sam knew what had happened to him. But that was a story for another day. “I know, Sammy,” Dean tried to placate. “I was working a job and I got caught up. I didn't want to put you in danger by contacting you until I knew the case was over.”

“For two years?!” Sam demanded. “I called you every day for weeks! I left you dozens of messages! I _begged_ you to call me back and let me know you were okay!” Sam could feel the tears starting to prick at the backs of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “I thought you were dead, Dean.”

Seeing Sam hurting like this had Dean feeling like a real asshole. “I know, Sammy,” he whispered once more, closing the gap between the two of them. His hands landed on Sam's biceps, holding the younger man in place. And damn, the kid had filled out since the last time Dean had seen him. “If I could have contacted you, I would have. I promise. But I'm fine. The case is over. And as soon as it ended, I high tailed my ass up here to see you.”

Sam wanted to ask what Dean had been working on, but he thought it was probably best just to leave it alone. After all, Sam was out of that life, and he wanted to keep it that way. But he was still a little pissed off. “You came straight here?” he asked, eyes ticking up to meet Dean's before he locked them on the ground once more. “Why? You could have called me. You have my number.”

It was true – Dean did have his number. But he hadn't seen Sam in what felt like forever. He just couldn't pass up this opportunity. Of course, learning that Sam had a girlfriend had kind of killed his buzz. But that was besides the point. “I wanted to see you,” Dean answered truthfully. “And...I needed to tell you something. Which is probably better said in person.”

Fear gripped Sam tightly when Dean explained that he had news better given in person. “What is it?” he asked, the suspense nearly killing him. “Is everything okay?” Being the son of a hunter, hearing that someone had news could either be a good thing or a bad thing. And Dean's face wasn't exactly screaming good news right now.

“Your dad is missing, Sammy,” Dean dropped the ball. He could see that the news hit Sam like a brick, but he wanted the younger man to hear it from him. Bobby had offered to call Sam, but Dean didn't think that was appropriate. And this gave Dean an excuse to see Sam. “He went on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a while.”

Missing? How was that possible? There had to be an explanation for this. John Winchester wasn't exactly one to check in when people were looking for him. “So...he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift,” Sam stuttered, shaking his head slightly. “He'll stumble back in sooner or later.”

He could hear Dean trying to argue with him about this – and sure, maybe he was in denial – but he wasn't going to believe this without proof. “R-Remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or-Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine.”

It hurt seeing Sam so shaken up about this. Sure, Sam and John hadn't always gotten along, but Dean knew the kid loved his father. “Look, my dad's been lookin' for him, Sammy,” Dean explained. “He told me to call you and see if you could help, but I figured I'd just come up here instead. Dad wants you to drive to Sioux Falls and look at everything he has – fresh pair of eyes, and all of that.”

Sam didn't have time for this right now. He had an interview on Monday morning to see about continuing his studies here, and he _really_ didn't have time for this. But this was his father. And if something was really wrong, Sam would never forgive himself for blowing this off. “Okay,” he breathed, licking his suddenly too dry lips as he nodded. “I'll go with you. But I have to be back first thing Monday.”

Quickly, Dean shook his head. “I'm not going, Sammy,” he explained, holding his hands up in the surrendering position. “I'm workin' a case a couple towns over. Men keep disappearing on this one stretch of highway. But Dad's expecting you.” When Sam just nodded as if he was trying to process everything, Dean knit in his brows, head cocked to the side. “What's first thing Monday?”

When Dean asked about Monday, Sam's eyes ticked up to meet Dean's once more. “I have this...” he started, taking a moment to think of how he wanted to go about this. But this was Dean – he told Dean everything. And Dean always supported him. “I have an interview. It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate.”

Law school? Wow, when Sam had a goal, he stuck to it. Not that Dean was surprised. The kid always had drive. “Alright, well just tell Dad that you've got to be back by Monday. I'm sure it won't be a problem. That gives you guys a couple days to look over everything.” Smiling, Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder once more. “Well, I gotta hit the road. This case isn't going to solve itself. Congrats, Sammy. It was good seeing you again.”

Before Dean had a chance to move too much further away from Sam, the younger man pulled Dean into a tight embrace, holding on as if his life depended on it. “Don't do anything stupid, Dean,” Sam warned, eyes slipping closed when Dean returned his hug. “And call me as soon as you're finished. I don't want to have to worry about you, too.”

Slowly, Dean pulled back from the hug, searching Sam's face. The kid looked stressed out. Dean didn't like it. “Yeah, I will,” he promised. “You don't have to worry about me, Sammy. This case is probably just a quick salt and burn. I'll be back in no time.”

With one last clap on the shoulder, Dean was heading towards the parking lot, leaving Sam alone in the alley. He had no idea what he was going to tell Jessica – she was going to be pissed that he was leaving this close to his interview. But he didn't have a choice – this was his family. And even if he and John didn't always see eye-to-eye, he was still Sam's father.

About two hours later, Sam was packing up a rental car with his bags. He glanced at the entrance to his apartment before he climbed into the passenger seat. Jessica was pretty mad at him. But he was sure that when he came back, everything would be fine. After all, she understood that Sam needed to do this for his family. She was really cool like that. Sighing, Sam fired up the vehicle, driving off toward Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

**~~**

Sirens blared loudly as they sped past Sam's car, the young man's heart rate kicking up in his chest. Fear gripped him tightly as he rounded the corner, realizing that the ambulance was headed in the direction of his apartment. His foot pressed roughly against the gas pedal, accelerating the car far beyond the speed limit. 

His heart sank into his stomach when he realized that the ambulance, as well as multiple police officers, were parked outside of his apartment complex. Throwing the car into park, not even bothering to turn it off, Sam jumped out of the car, running toward the building.

Before he could get too close, someone stopped him. Familiar hands gripped his biceps, holding him back so he couldn't move any closer to the crime scene. “What happened?” Sam asked, not even really registering that he was talking, let alone the man holding him. “Let me go. What's going on? I live here!”

“Sammy, stop!” Dean ordered, using every ounce of strength he had to keep the younger man back. But Sam was fighting him, and Dean didn't want to hurt him. “Sam, listen to me!” he demanded. His hands moved from Sam's biceps to his cheeks, holding the younger man's head in place and forcing Sam to look at him. “Sammy, you don't want to go in there. _Trust me!_ You don't.”

Realization washed over Sam when Dean forced him to lock eyes. Slowly, he took in Dean's appearance, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. Dean was covered in blood. He looked like something out of a horror movie. “Dean?” Sam asked, teeth clenched together as he closed his eyes tightly. “What's going on? What happened to you?”

Hearing commotion from the barrier, Sam allowed his eyes to tick toward the scene, one tear sliding down his cheek as he watched a paramedic wheel a gurney out of the apartment. There was a body bag on the gurney and Sam could tell from where he was standing that the paramedic looked like he was going to be sick. “No,” Sam breathed, shaking his head as tears slid down his cheeks. 

It was Jessica. Sam knew that's why Dean wasn't letting him get any closer. But Sam refused to just stand here. He needed to see for himself. “Jess!” Sam screamed, fighting against Dean once more. “No!” he yelled, trying everything in his power to get away from the older man. “No!” He was losing the battle – Dean was pushing and pulling him away from the scene, and Sam just didn't have it in him to fight back hard enough. He felt drained – like everything was just leaving him. “Jess! Jess! No!”

Luckily, before Sam could make too much more of a scene, Dean got him to the Impala. Opening the passenger door, Dean shoved Sam inside before he climbed into the driver's seat, tearing away from the scene. When he felt like they were far enough away, he pulled over, turning the car off as he turned his attention to Sam.

The younger man was calmer now. Sam was just staring at his hands where they laid in his lap. “It was Jessica, wasn't it?” Sam finally asked, teeth clenched together once more as he fought back the fresh wave of tears that wanted to fall. “What happened, Dean? Why are you covered in blood?”

“I found her, Sammy,” Dean explained, eyes locked on Sam. “I...came over to wish you luck with your interview tomorrow. The door was open when I got there. I went in, and I found her. She was...someone killed her, Sammy.”

Shaking his head once more, Sam felt tears sliding down his cheeks. “I should have been here,” he accused. “If I was here, this wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't have let anyone hurt her, Dean. This is my fault. I killed Jess.”

Without thinking, Dean pulled Sam into an embrace, holding the younger man tightly as Sam sobbed into Dean's shoulder. “This isn't your fault, Sam,” Dean assured the broken young man. “This had nothing to do with you. It was just some demon who was trying to have fun. I'm gonna take care of this, Sammy. I promise.”

When Dean mentioned a demon, Sam pulled back, sniffling. “A demon?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion. “But...why? Jessica didn't have anything to do with demons. Are-Are you sure?” If it was a demon, then it was trying to get at Sam. And if that was the case, it was still Sam's fault as far as he was concerned.

Dean nodded when Sam asked if he was sure. “There was sulfur at the scene, Sam,” he explained. “I couldn't get a good look at everything before the cops showed up, but I saw enough. I could smell it everywhere, Sam. Whoever the bastard was possessing, she knew him. There was no sign of forced entry.” Reaching up, Dean used his thumb to wipe away the tear that was sliding down Sam's cheek. “I'm going to find this bastard, Sammy. And I'm going to make him pay for what he did.”

Sulfur – a clear sign of demonic energy. “But why?” Sam asked again. “I'm out of the life. I've _been_ out of the life. I swore I was done hunting. For good. So why would they come after me? And hurt my girlfriend?! I haven't even seen any demons in years! I've been living a normal life! Why would this happen, Dean?!”

Again, Dean pulled Sam into his chest, allowing the younger man to sob into his shirt once more. “I don't know, Sammy,” Dean whispered, fingers carding through the younger man's hair. “I don't know. But I'm going to find him. And when I do, he'll pay for this.”

For a long while, Dean just let Sam lean into him, sobbing until he had nothing left in him. “You're gonna stay with me for a little while, Sammy,” Dean finally explained. “Don't argue with me, either. I'm taking you back to my place and we're going to figure things out, okay?” Pulling back from the hug, Dean started the car. Sparing one last glance at Sam, Dean cupped the younger man's cheek, fingers brushing against the nape of Sam's neck. “I'm gonna take care of you. I promise.”

**~~**

The funeral was held three days later. Sam had barely worked up enough courage to go. But he knew that he had to say goodbye. Dean was there with him the whole time – helping to keep him grounded. When it was over, a lot of Sam's friends came over to apologize to him – say they were sorry for his loss. It just solidified Sam's thoughts he'd been having since Jessica's murder.

As soon as Dean closed to the door to the Impala, before he could even turn it on, Sam turned to him. “Dean, I can't go back there,” Sam explained. He'd already missed his interview. Sure, they were willing to reschedule due to the circumstances, but Sam didn't want that anymore. “I can't go back to that school and just pretend like nothing happened. I was an idiot to think I could have a normal life. I'm a hunter. A freak. That's all I'll ever be.”

“What are you saying, Sam?” Dean asked, brows knit in confusion as he studied the younger man's features. He wasn't blind – he'd seen the way Sam had visibly flinched when all of those people came over to him and started talking to him about Jessica. Not that Dean could blame him – people were fucked up. It had only been three days! Would it have killed them to give Sam a break?!

Sam scoffed quietly when Dean asked what he was saying. “Isn't it obvious?” Sam asked, wondering if their years apart had dulled their relationship. Back in the day, Dean would have known exactly what Sam was thinking before he'd even said it. “I want to come with you. I wanna hunt again, Dean. I can be your partner. I mean, I'm a little out of practice, but it's just like riding a bike, right? I can help.”

Hearing Sam explain that he wanted to come with Dean had the older man's heart kicking up in his chest. He'd wanted to hear those words come out of Sam's mouth since he dropped him off at Stanford. Now, it was finally happening. “Alright, yeah,” he answered, nodding. “There's a possible case in Black Water Ridge. We can head there now.”

Turning on the Impala, Dean couldn't help but smile as he turned on the radio. Finally, he and Sam were together. Hitting the road and hunting things like they should have been doing years ago. Sure, the circumstances weren't the greatest, but it was what needed to happen clearly to make Sam finally see where he belonged. And if given the choice again, Dean would have done everything exactly the same.

**~~**

John Winchester smiled at the pretty hotel clerk as she handed him the keys to the room where his _son_ had been staying. He thanked her as he moved toward the rooms, Bobby Singer following closely behind. Bobby had been calling him for weeks trying to get in touch with him, but John had been working a case. He'd been so close to finding the demon that killed Mary that he could almost taste it. But then he'd gotten the voice mail from Bobby about Sam.

His son had gotten a message from Dean that he was missing. That's when John knew that he needed to drop everything and run. His son was in danger. And the sad part was that Bobby had no idea what his son had been up to in the last few years. Hell, he thought he'd been on a case and that Dean would check in when he could. And boy, could Bobby have been more wrong?

In actuality, John and Dean had been working a case together. Nothing too serious – just a simple salt and burn. But John had caught on to the way Dean was obsessing over Sam every chance he got. And how he blamed John for Sam leaving. The two of them had gotten into a pretty nasty fight, which John had lost. When he came to, Dean had been gone. And John knew that he should have called someone. Either Bobby or Sam – warn them about Dean. But he'd been too proud. And now, it was possible that Dean had Sam somewhere and they'd never find him. 

Once inside the room, John got to work on checking everything. All of their bags were gone, which led John to believe that Dean had moved on to another town. And he was about ninety percent sure that Dean had Sam with him. Yanking open the closet, John felt his stomach turn when he saw the contents. Dean hadn't taken _everything_ he owned. And how could he? When he was with Sam, the other hunter couldn't run the risk of Sam seeing any of this. And traveling with it was too dangerous.

He heard Bobby gasp behind him as he moved further into the closet. The walls were littered with pictures of Sam. There were photos of Sam sleeping with a girl who John had never seen before, pictures of Sam in class, at the library. There were even pictures of Sam in bars and at coffee shops studying. It was like Dean had been stalking Sam – photographing him whenever he could. “He has my son,” John frowned, plucking one of the photos off of the wall and staring at him. “There's no other reason he'd leave all of this behind. Not unless he had the real thing.”

Bobby felt sick. He'd known that Dean and Sam were close, but he'd never imagined just how deep Dean's obsession for Sam had really gone. Reaching for a box on the shelf, Bobby picked it up, turning it in his hands. Slowly, he opened it, frowning at the contents. It was an engagement ring. And from the looks of it, whoever bought it hadn't been stingy with the cost. “He'd never hurt Sam,” Bobby assured John. “He treats that boy like he's his entire world.” And he clearly was.

“Yeah, Bobby,” John ground out. “That's what I'm worried about.” Seeing something sticking out of the pocket of some blood stained jeans, John picked it up, seeing that it was a cell phone. Flipping it open, John went through the voice mail messages. _Hey Jess, it's Sam. I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading back tonight. I miss you. Can't wait to see you. Love you._

Frowning, Bobby put the engagement ring back down on the shelf. “That was the girl Sam was telling me about. He'd been dating her for a couple years – Jessica Moore.” His frown deepened as he explained, “She was murdered about a week ago. I saw it in the papers. I meant to call Sam, but things were just crazy with you calling me back finally that I just forgot.”

Quickly, John pulled out his cell phone. He'd been trying to call Sam since they arrived in Palo Alto, but he hadn't had any luck. He wasn't sure why he thought now would be any different, but he just had to try. _This is Sam. Leave a message._ “Dammit,” he growled, slamming the closet door closed as he stormed past Bobby out of the room.

**~~**

“Dean, have you seen my phone?” Sam asked, turning his body awkwardly in the car and checking behind the seat. “I haven't been able to find it since the funeral.” Not that Sam was too broken up about it. All of his friends had his number. And Sam just wasn't ready to talk to anyone about what had happened. And he sure as hell didn't want to deal with their pity.

A small frown came to Dean's lips when Sam asked about his phone. “Oh, yeah, I uh...I threw it out before he left the hotel,” Dean answered honestly. He could see that Sam was about to throw a fit, so he quickly cut him off. “Look, it was going off like crazy – fucking people trying to talk to you about everything that happened. I know you don't wanna deal with that shit.” Smiling softly, Dean cupped Sam's cheek lovingly. “Don't worry about it, Sammy. We'll get you another one when we stop for gas. Fresh starts require new phones.”

Honestly, Sam wasn't even that upset about it. Dean had a point – he didn't want to deal with that. But still, he wished Dean would have told him. “Yeah,” he nodded, chuckling softly as he looked out the window. “Fresh start.” Instinctively, Sam pinched himself, frowning when pain shot through his arm. This was real life – Jessica was dead, and Sam was hunting again. It was crazy how just a few moments could ruin everything.


	3. Chapter Three

The door slammed closed behind Dean when he walked into the motel room, making the young man jump. “Oops,” he chuckled, setting the bags of food down on the table. “I didn't mean to do that.” His eyes instantly fell on Sam, much like they always did when the younger man was around. Dean could barely focus on anything else when Sam was in his eye sight. It made hunting a lot harder than he could have ever dreamed. 

Sam was sitting on the bed, laptop on his knees as he researched for their next case. The way his eyes were so focused on the computer screen was almost mesmerizing. And the way he bit into his bottom lip as he typed into the search box had Dean's downstairs brain quickly gaining interest. And don't even get him started on when Sam shoved that damn pencil between his lips. 

Moving toward the bed, Dean kept his eyes on Sam, smirking as he leaned over to see what Sam was doing. When Sam was in research mode, it wasn't uncommon for him to not pay attention to his surroundings – especially when he was in the comfort of their motel room. He just trusted that these four walls were going to keep him safe, Dean supposed. And they would – because if anyone fucked with Sam, they'd have to deal with Dean. “Anything interesting, Sammy?” Dean asked, smile widening when Sam finally seemed to realize he was back from the food run.

“I...yeah, I think so,” Sam answered, suddenly aware of how close Dean was. His skin felt hot all of a sudden – like the furnace had been turned up about ten degrees in the room. “These missing person's cases go back years, Dean. I mean, in 1997, 3 people went missing. And no one had ever found them. But...there was a break between 2000 and 2003. They picked back up late 2003. Almost like the thing responsible was gone for those 3 years.” Frowning, Sam turned his attention to Dean, licking his lips when he realized how close their faces were. “Do you think it's something? Maybe this monster goes into hibernation, or something?”

Unable to miss the way Sam's breath hitched in his throat when he looked at him, Dean smirked, eyes ticking to Sam's lips briefly before they landed on his eyes once more. “Maybe,” he answered with a shrug. “Food's getting cold. We can keep researching after we eat if you want to.” Slapping Sam on the shoulder playfully, Dean rolled off the side of the bed. “C'mon Sammy, put your computer away. Your salad is going to start to wilt if you don't chow down.”

The boys ate their dinner between laughing and joking about nothing in particular. It was getting back to the way it had been before Sam had left for college. They were closer now than ever – Sam had Dean's back, and vice versa. It was one of the best feelings in the world – knowing that someone would literally lay down their life for you. It gave someone a sense of security. 

Finally, Sam pushed his carry out container toward the center of the table, leaning back in his chair. “We should really do some more research,” Sam suggested, eyes ticking to his computer once more. He wasn't exactly sure what else they could accomplish tonight, but it was worth a shot at least. Tomorrow, they'd talk to the local police officers and get the real story of what was happening in this town.

Research was the last thing on Dean's mind right now. He could honestly think of a thousand other things he wanted to do – all involving Sam. But he wasn't going to go down that road. Not tonight. It was too soon. Jessica had only been gone for about six weeks. Sam was still healing. And Dean was going to give him his space. “How about we go get some drinks instead?” Dean suggested. “You've been holed up in this room all day. Just one.”

Although Sam wasn't much for getting out and going to bars these days, he knew that Dean liked to do it. “Yeah, sure,” he answered with a small smile. “Just...let me get dressed.” He wasn't about to leave the house in his pajama bottoms and ratty old T-shirt that he slept in. 

About thirty minutes later, Sam and Dean were seated at a table in the middle of a local bar called Kugel Keg. According to some of the locals, it was the best place in Hibbing, Minnesota to get a decent beer. And Dean had to admit that he wasn't disappointed. Of course, all Sam wanted to talk about was the case. But Dean was okay with that. He understood that Sam probably needed something to keep his mind distracted from everything that was happening in his life right now. The kid had made some big adjustments. Dean was really proud of him.

It wasn't long before Dean could see that Sam was struggling to stay awake. “Hey, let's get out of here,” Dean suggested, smiling when Sam tried to protest. “Seriously Sammy, we gotta be up early tomorrow to start making headway with this case. Let's just go.” Another smile came to his lips when Sam nodded. “I'll meet you outside. I gotta take a leak. And I'll handle this tab.”

Without protest, Sam headed out the front door, hands in his pockets as he walked toward the Impala. Hearing a noise from the other side of the lot, Sam perked up. Quickly, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a flashlight as he moved to investigate. Slowly, he came up on the noise, almost falling on his ass when a cat hissed at him before running off. Shaking his head at himself, Sam moved toward the Impala once more, waiting for Dean to come meet him.

When Dean walked out of the bar, a deep frown came to his lips. He had a good view of the Impala, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. “Sam?” Dean asked, eyes darting around the parking lot already. “Sammy?!” There was no answer. Quickly, Dean ripped open the Impala doors, checking for the younger man inside the car. “Sam?!” he called once more, getting onto his knees to check under the car. Still, there was no sign of the younger man. 

Panic hit Dean like a bis, nearly making him fall to his knees. Seeing a couple of people coming out of the bar, Dean headed toward them, asking if they'd seen Sam. No one was able to provide him with any help. And with the case they were working on, Dean was starting to feel sick to his stomach. Looking up at the sky, Dean saw there was a camera mounted on a light pole just above the exit of the bar. Without hesitation, Dean moved to the entrance of the building once more, ready to rip this place apart if that's what it took to find Sam.

**~~**

The first thing Sam realized as he started to regain consciousness was the blinding pain in his head. When he tried to reach for his temple, fear struck him deep to his core. His wrists were bound with chains, and so were his ankles. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, trying to ignore the pain. Thankfully, wherever he was, the light wasn't too blinding. 

Taking in his surroundings, Sam quickly realized that he was in trouble. As if the chains didn't give it away, there were bodies all around the room as well, each in different states of decomposition at this point. The fear he was feeling kicked up a notch when he realized that his clothes has been stripped from his body. Roughly, he yanked at the chains, trying everything he could think of to get out of his current situation. 

Dean. He had to know by now that Sam was missing. And there was no way the older man wasn't going to come looking for him. So at least he had that in the back of his mind in case he couldn't figure something out on his own. But that wasn't going to stop him from trying like hell to get out of here. 

With a clear head, Sam forcing his panic down low in his belly, he looked around the room once more. There was nothing that he could see within reach that might be able to help him out of these chains. And they were definitely sturdy enough to keep him exactly where he was. But Sam had been in impossible situations before – he was a hunter. He could figure this out.

Suddenly, the sound of metal scraping against cement rang through the room, signaling that someone was coming. That feeling of fear that Sam had tried so hard to push down kicked back up to ten once more as footsteps sounded. He had no idea what to expect – he hadn't had time to research long enough to find the monster they were dealing with. And there was no way out.

**~~**

A pained cry filled the room as the man's abdomen hit the bar, his arm being twisted back to almost breaking point as Dean pressed his whole body weight against him. “I'm going to ask you one more time,” Dean warned, inches away from the man's ear. “Where can I find Lee Bender?”

It had been almost three days since Sam went missing. Damn red tape had really put a hold on things that hindered Dean from finding information as quickly as he would have liked. But the footage from the camera had given him a license plate number, and the rest was easy from there. Dean had a name, and he would stop at nothing to get an address. And if that meant dropping a few bodies, well, Sam was worth it.

Applying just a bit more pressure, Dean smirked when the man finally gave up the information he was looking for. Now that he had an address, Dean was just a few minutes away from getting Sam back. Without hesitating, Dean slammed the man's head into the bar, effectively knocking him unconscious. He didn't need anyone warning Lee that he was on his way.

About twenty minutes down the road, Dean came to turn off that had been described by the man in the bar. Dean's blood was boiling as he gathered his weapons, not sure what exactly he was walking into. His whole body was vibrating as he neared the front door. This man had taken Sam, and Dean wasn't going to let him get away with it. 

He made quick work of picking the lock, letting himself into the run down house. Inside, Dean saw no trace of anyone even living there. Sighing, he headed up the stairs, checking every room for Lee. As Dean rounded the stairs, he heard footsteps on the first floor. Good – Lee must be home. Quickly, Dean headed down the stairs, being as quiet as possible. 

Being that Dean had the element of surprise, it was easy to subdue Lee. The man was in pretty good shape, but not as fit as Dean. One kick to the back of the knee, and the man went down with a shout. Once Lee was kneeling, Dean wrapped his arm around his throat, ignoring the pain that ripped through his arm when Lee started clawing at him. Minor injuries – he'd live. “Where's Sam, you sonuvabitch?” Dean demanded, applying just a bit more pressure to let this scumbag know that he wasn't messing around. “I swear to God, if you hurt him, I'm going to make you wish you were dead.”

Instead of answering Dean, the man just chuckled. He tried to make a move, but Dean quickly countered, pressing harder against his windpipe. “I will snap your neck if you try anything,” he warned, watching the man's eyes. There was nothing in them – no fear, nothing. It was telling – it meant this man wasn't afraid to die. That made things a little more complicated.

Luckily, Dean was used to watching people – studying them. It was a trick his father taught him at a young age. After all, it was hard to hustle people if you couldn't read them. So, it was easy to see that the man was focused on something outside the window. Turning his attention toward the window, Dean saw what looked like a barn. “Is that where you're keeping him?” Dean asked, smirking when the man's features hardened. “Yeah, it is, isn't it?” 

Although everything in Dean's body was telling him to waste this sick freak, he knew that he couldn't. If Sam wasn't in that barn, Dean was going to need this man to tell him where he was. And the threat of death clearly wasn't going to work, so Dean was going to have to get creative, he supposed. Instead, he released his grip, quickly jamming the butt of his pistol into the man's skull, rendering him unconscious. Without missing a beat, Dean secured the man to the fridge with a pair of handcuffs. He'd come back for him later.

Once he walked into the barn, Dean felt like he was going to be sick. There were bodies all over the place, and it smelled like literal death. He noticed movement from the bed in the center of the room, Dean raising his gun just in case there was a threat. However, when he realized that it was Sam, he quickly tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, moving toward the bed. “Sammy?” he breathed, one hand pressed against the mattress as his free hand carded through Sam's hair. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, eyes scanning the younger man's body for any injuries.

The fact that Sam was naked had Dean's brain working a mile a minute. If this man had touched Sam, he was dead. And Dean was going to make it hurt – _a lot_. “What happened?” Dean asked, working on getting the chains that were binding Sam off of him. “What did that sick freak do to you? Did he touch you?”

Relief washed over Sam when he realized that Dean was here. “Dean,” he smiled, eyes closing for a minute as he allowed himself to calm down. When that door opened, he thought his captor had been coming back. “No, Dean, I'm fine,” Sam assured him, rolling his wrist when Dean finally had one arm free. “He didn't touch me. I'm fine.”

Dean made quick work of the chains holding Sam to the mattress. He wasn't sure he believed the younger man when he assured him that he hadn't been touched. Why else would someone bind another person to a bed naked? “Sam, look at me,” Dean ordered, cupping the younger man's face between his palms. “You can tell me. If he touched you, tell me.”

Clearly, Dean wasn't going to let this go. Sam just wanted to forget about everything that had happened in the last three days, but Dean wasn't going to drop it. Sam locked eyes with Dean then, making sure to not break contact. “Dean, I promise that he didn't touch me,” the younger man assured him. “He just...came in here and...took pictures of me sometimes.” Biting into his bottom lip, Sam had to look away at the next part. “He wanted me to touch myself, but I didn't. And he just left when I wouldn't. I swear, he never laid a hand on me.”

Satisfied that Sam was telling the truth, Dean pulled his leather jacket off, handing it to the younger man. “Here, put this on,” he instructed. “We're getting out of here. I have your bag in the Impala. You can get dressed there.” Without another word, Dean helped Sam out of the barn, not leaving his side as they walked to the car. Once Sam was safely inside, Dean handed him his bag from the back seat. “Get dressed. Stay in the car. Lock the doors. I'll be right back.”

“Wait, what?” Sam asked, not sure if he was angry or grateful for the treatment Dean was giving him. Just because he'd gotten jumped when he wasn't paying attention didn't mean he wasn't able to take care of himself. “Where are you going, Dean? Let's just get out of here.”

Shaking his head, Dean pulled to his full height. “Just stay here Sammy,” Dean instructed. “There's something I gotta do.” Without waiting for a response, Dean headed back into the woods, heading toward the house once more. As soon as he reached it, he kicked the door in, not caring about niceties right now. Wasting no time, Dean moved toward the kitchen, grabbing a fistful of Lee's hair. “You fucked with the wrong kid, you sonuvabitch,” he growled, letting his balled fist fly before it connected with the man's nose.

After laying down a brutal beat down, Dean released the man from the handcuffs. He then dragged his bloody, bruised body into the living room area, smirking as he moved toward his duffel bag. The look of pure joy on Dean's face as he stood over the man with his tools was enough to make this seemingly emotionless man cringe with fear. “Where are the photos?” Dean asked, kneeling beside the man's body as he flicked his thumb over the blade of his machete. “The ones you took of Sam – where are they?”

This time when Dean asked the question, the man answered. His jaw was more than likely fractured, if not completely broken because the word was almost unrecognizable when he spit it out, bloody saliva slipping from between the man's lips. Dean turned his head toward the window once more, seeing the shed Lee was talking about. “Don't bother trying to run. I'll find you.”

Convinced that Lee wasn't going anywhere, Dean headed out the door. As soon as he opened the door to the shed, his blood boiled even further. There were multiple pictures of Sam littering the walls. All from different angles, and in different lighting. Sam looked terrified in each and every one. The amount of beat down Dean was going to lay on this man would never be enough to make up for this. Angrily, Dean grabbed the can of gas that was sitting on one of the shelves, dousing the entire shed. As he stormed out of the shed, Dean tossed his lighter through the door, setting the whole building ablaze.

Once back in the house, Dean knelt down next to his prey once more. Grabbing the man's forearm, Dean slashed with his machete, blood splattering his face as the man's hand was severed at the wrist. The man cried out, Dean not paying attention as he moved to do the same with Lee's other hand. But he didn't stop there. Using his thumbs, Dean gouged out the man's eyes, face twisted into a snarl as the man continued to scream. 

But he still wasn't finished. Kicking the man in the abdomen, Dean forced him onto his back. Lee was a bleeding, crying mess, and Dean loved it. Because he was a human, Dean probably would have let him live – would have handed him over to the police and let them deal with him. But then the man just _had_ to touch Sam. _Big_ mistake. Moving toward his duffel once more, Dean grabbed his sawed off, smiling maliciously as he moved to Lee once more. Kicking the man's legs apart, Dean aimed before pulling the trigger.

Again, Lee cried out in pain as the bullet ripped through his manhood, effectively castrating him. Tossing the rifle back into his duffel, Dean grabbed his machete once more as he leaned over Lee's body. “You know, I probably would have just turned you into the police if you hadn't touched what was mine,” Dean explained, almost sadly. “But after what you did to Sammy, even _this_ isn't enough.” Running the blade over Lee's chest, Dean continued, “I could kill you right now. I could just put you out of your misery. I mean, you're going to bleed out, anyway. I could make it less painful for you.”

Slowly, Dean pushed to his feet, tossing his machete into his duffel. “But you're just not worth it,” he added, heading out of the house and back through the woods to the Impala. He could hear Lee crying out from the house – probably begging Dean to just end his suffering – but he wasn't about to turn around. He'd left Sam alone long enough.

When he finally made it back to the car, Sam was sitting in the passenger seat right where Dean had left him. He was pleased to see that the younger man was being so obedient. Quickly, Dean unlocked the car before he yanked open the driver's side door, climbing into the car. He was pissed off, and he just wanted to get them back on the road. They couldn't stay in this town any longer – not after what Dean had done the last few days looking for Sam. And _definitely_ not after what Dean had just done to Lee Bender.

Seeing that Dean was covered in blood, Sam felt his stomach flop. “Dean,” he breathed, licking his suddenly too dry lips. “What did you do?” His fear only kicked up when Dean snapped at him not to worry about it. But Sam was worried. Sure, Lee may have been a monster, but he was the human variety. Just because they were hunters didn't give them the right to take the lives of humans. And judging by the amount of blood on Dean, Sam had a feeling that the other guy hadn't survived.

After about three and a half hours, Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of a motel. Sam went to get them a room because Dean sure as hell was in no condition to talk to people right now. Once Sam had the keys, he helped Dean carry their bags into the room. As soon as they were inside, Dean headed to the shower, leaving Sam alone in the room.

Once Sam heard the water start, he grabbed the remote, turning the television on to the news station. He watched in horror as the news anchor covered the story of the gruesome murder. Because the attack was so fresh, the news station didn't have a lot of information. But Sam knew how to get past that barrier. Quickly, he pulled out his cell phone, calling the Hibbing Police Department. 

Dean headed out of the bathroom dressed in baggy sweatpants and an old ratty T-shirt about an hour later. He could see that Sam was pissed, so he knew that they were about to have a conversation about what happened at the farm. Dean didn't want to talk about it. He just wanted to catch some sleep and get back on the road. They were still too close to Hibbing for his liking. 

“You killed him?” Sam accused, champagne hazel eyes staring directly at Dean and not breaking contact. “And brutally, Dean!” If he didn't know any better, Sam would have thought that Dean had no remorse for what he had just done. “Dean, he was a _human_! I mean, yeah, he was a scumbag, but he was _human_! We don't kill people!”

Anger bubbled up inside of Dean when Sam started yelling at him. “He was a monster, Sam!” Dean corrected. “Sure, he may have looked like a human, but deep down, there was nothing there!” Reaching for Sam, Dean grabbed his forearm, holding the younger man's arm up so Sam could see his own wrist. “Look what he did to you, Sam!”

When Dean grabbed him and forced him to look at the bruises on his wrists, Sam flinched. Yeah, there were marks on him from where the chains had bitten into his skin, but that was no excuse to kill someone. “I've had worse, Dean,” Sam assured him, forcing his arm out of Dean's grasp. “And so have you! We're hunters! We get hurt! But we don't kill people!”

Angrily, Dean shot back, “_You_ don't! Did you really think I was just going to let it go, Sam?!” Shaking his head, Dean chuckled humorlessly. “You have _no idea_ what I went through trying to find you after he grabbed you! And you honestly think that I was going to let him live after what he did to you?!”

Shaking his head, Sam asked, “What he did to me?! Dean, I told you, he didn't touch me!” Sure, he'd kidnapped him, locked him up, and terrorized him, but he hadn't actually touched him. Not like Dean thought, anyway. “He never put his hands on me while I was there. He just had me chained up, and he would come talk to me! And when I wouldn't cooperate, he left!” Really, he'd only touched himself – another thing Sam wasn't about to disclose to Dean.

He didn't want to fight. The last thing Dean wanted right now was to argue with Sam. All he wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been before this all happened. Without thinking, Dean reached for Sam again, fingers carding in the younger man's hair much like he'd done in the barn. “Sammy, I'm sorry,” he breathed, pulling the younger man into a hug when Sam didn't resist his touch. Pressing his face into Sam's hair, Dean breathed deeply, holding on as if his life depended on it. “I had to do it. I'll never let anyone touch you again, I promise. I'm gonna take care of you.”

After a minute, Dean pulled back, fingers sliding from Sam's hair to his neck. “I don't wanna fight right now, okay?” Dean suggested, pulling away from Sam completely. “I'm tired. We need to get some sleep. We have to get on the road early tomorrow. We're too close to Hibbing still.”

Sam wasn't trying to fight. He just needed Dean to understand that what he had done was wrong. But clearly they didn't see eye-to-eye on that fact. But he was tired – and he knew they couldn't stay here long. The police had informed him that they were already widening their search. “Okay, Dean, yeah,” Sam answered, moving toward the bed furthest from the door. He was exhausted because he hadn't been able to sleep much the few days prior, so it didn't take him long to fall asleep.

While Sam slept, Dean kept watch. No one was going to jump them while they were in here. If it were up to Dean, he'd never let the younger man out of his sight again. Finally, about three hours after Sam, Dean succumbed to sleep.

**~~**

John stared at the scene in front of him with horror. If his theory was correct, and Dean was the one behind this murder, the man was quickly flying off the rails. If they didn't find him soon, John was worried about what he might do to his son. As they were leaving, John climbed into his truck, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “If we're right about this, and that was Dean, he's gone off the rails,” John explained. “And he has _my_ son, Bobby. What if he loses his mind and he does something like this to Sam?!”

Although Bobby knew that John was concerned, he didn't think Dean would actually hurt Sam. From all of the evidence they'd found so far, Dean's obsession was based on Sam. From what Bobby could gather, the victim had probably done something to piss Dean off – probably dealing with Sam. He'd heard about the strange disappearances that were happening in this town. “You know what was happenin' in this town,” Bobby reminded John. “Men goin' missin'. You and I both know that this probably had something to do with yer boy. I think if anything, Dean was just protecting Sam.”

Suddenly, a dreadful thought came to Bobby's mind. He and John were following them around, trying to find Sam. After all, he wasn't stupid – John's plan was to collect Sam and get as far away from Dean as he possibly could. “Honestly, we should be more worried about what Dean's gonna do to us when we finally catch up to 'em.”

As John pulled out of the driveway, he felt his whole body tense up. If Bobby was right, they were going to have to play this really smart. After all, if Dean was willing to do this, there was no telling what else the younger man was capable of. And right now, he had Sam.


	4. Chapter Four

Dean glared at the waitress as she shamelessly flirted with Sam. From the moment she walked over to the table, she had her slutty little eyes on him. And Dean wasn't pleased. Clearly, she wasn't paying attention to the fact that Sam wasn't interested – he wasn't even interacting with her except to be polite and say thank you. 

Really, all Sam was focused on at the moment was his damn laptop. Dean hated that thing almost as much as he hated the waitress right now. Sam was always so focused on it. Only worried about the laptop more often than not. God forbid Sam put the damn thing down for three seconds. But that wasn't the issue right now. Dean understood that they needed to be looking for a new case – and Sam was all over it. 

“So...I think I found something,” Sam smiled, pushing the computer toward Dean. “Missing people in Manning, Colorado. And then there's this, too.” Clicking on another open tab, Sam pulled up a news article. “Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home. Police don't know what to think. At first, they were thinking bear attack, but then they found signs of a robbery.”

Still, Dean was having trouble focusing on what Sam was telling him. Colorado wasn't too far from where they were now, and if it got them the hell away from this damn diner – and that fucking waitress – Dean was up for anything. “Yeah, sounds like it might be our kinda thing,” Dean assured Sam with a smile. 

Just seconds after Dean had started to calm down, the waitress came back. Her baby blue eyes were on Sam immediately as she explained that she was going to step outside for a moment and asked if there was anything else she could grab for them. Again, Sam politely told her that they would just take the check when she had a minute.

Watching as the woman headed out the back door, Dean smirked. “Sammy, I'm gonna hit the head before we leave. Pack up your laptop. As soon as she gives us the check, we'll head back to the motel and get some sleep.” With that, Dean was off his chair and heading toward the bathrooms. A quick glance at Sam told Dean that the younger man wasn't paying attention to him, giving Dean the opening he needed to slip out the same back door the waitress had.

In the alley, it was easy to find the little trollop. She was just standing there with her back to the door, smoking a damn cigarette. Sam fucking hated cigarettes – there was no way this bitch had a chance with him. Roughly, Dean shoved the waitress into the wall, flipping her so that her back was pressed against the cool bricks as his hand closed around her throat. 

He leaned in so that he was inches away from her face, sneering at the woman. “I know what you're trying to do,” he assured her. “And I'm warning you now to back the fuck off. Sammy isn't interested. The flirting stops now.” Applying just a bit more pressure, Dean warned, “Either you back off on your own, or I'll _make_ you back off. Do you understand?”

With a small whimper, the woman nodded, letting Dean know she would do as she was told. When Dean finally released her, she fell to her knees, clutching at her throat as she gasped for breath. Dean could feel her eyes on him as he pulled the door to the diner open and slipped inside once more. He was pretty sure that he'd made his point.

Back inside the diner, Dean sat across from Sam once more, smiling at the younger man playing with his food. “Sammy, if you want a box, we can get you one,” Dean assured him. “Or we can stay until you finish. I'm in no hurry, really.”

Shaking his head, Sam mumbled, “I don't want it. The chicken is all cold by now.” In retrospect, Sam wished that he would have been paying more attention to his food than his research, but he'd eaten over half of it. “I just wish she would come back in so we can get our check already.”

Sure enough, as if she had been waiting for Sam to say something, the waitress walked back in. She gave them their check quickly, not even making eye contact with neither Sam nor Dean. At least the woman knew how to listen. It still pissed Dean off that he had to say anything in the first place. Sam should have just taken care of it. He should have told the bitch he wasn't interested. Sam should have told her that he belonged to Dean.

The whole drive back to the motel, Dean was stewing. He didn't understand why Sam hadn't said anything to waitress. Sure, he knew the younger man was sometimes oblivious to the way people would hit on him, but this woman had basically been throwing herself at Sam. And the younger man had just ignored it. Instead of telling her to back the hell off – that he was taken – Sam just let it happen. 

When they finally made it back to the motel, Dean stormed into the room in front of Sam. It was obvious the older man was pissed about something. He'd seemed fine at the diner – for the most part, anyway. But just as they were about to leave, Dean's demeanor had changed. And he'd barely spoken three words to Sam since they left. “Dean?” Sam called, jogging to catch up to the other man. “Hey, what's your problem?”

What was his problem? Really?! As if Sam didn't already know! “Nothing,” Dean huffed, shrugging out of his jacket. If he had to tell Sam what was wrong, then it defeated the purpose. Maybe Sam just wasn't all in. Maybe Dean considered Sam to be more than what he actually was. After all, Sam had been with him for months and he'd never made a move to try anything. Not even a kiss. Maybe Sam just didn't think he was Dean's the way Dean assumed he was. That thought had Dean even more pissed off than before.

“Dude, you've been pissed since we left the diner,” Sam argued. He wasn't about to drop this. If Dean was mad at him for something, Sam wanted to know what it was. After all, Dean was all he had. And if he pissed him off, then Sam had to deal with the idea of being alone. Dean didn't _have_ to let Sam hunt with him. Hell, he could drop him off at any no name town and never look back. But he didn't. And Sam assumed there was a reason for it. “What happened? Did I do something to piss you off? Because if I did, then I'm sorry!”

No, Sam hadn't really done anything. Dean was just pissed, and he was throwing it in Sam's direction. But hearing the younger man apologize for something that wasn't even his fault had Dean feeling like a real asshole. “Sammy, it's not you,” he assured the younger man, shaking his head as he closed the gap between the two of them. “It was that damn waitress. She kept flirting with you.”

Without thinking, Dean reached for Sam, fingers carding in the younger man's hair. “It pisses me off when other people try to get you to pay attention to them.” Dean's fingers started working against Sam's scalp when he felt the younger man lean into his touch. “I want your attention on me. All of the time. Only me, Sammy.”

Hearing what was making Dean so upset had Sam's breath hitching in his throat. If he would have known that's what was bothering Dean, he could have fixed that in the car. “Dean, no one else has my attention,” Sam assured the older man. “I swear, I don't even look at other people. I only want you.” Biting into his bottom lip, Sam locked eyes with the floor. “I...didn't think you wanted me back. So...I just tried to ignore it.”

Now that Dean knew the truth, he wasn't willing to waste one more second. Without warning, Dean closed the gap between the two of them, fingers carding in Sam's shaggy chestnut locks as he dragged the younger man's head down to meet him. As soon as their lip touched, Dean moaned softly, almost unable to believe this was really happening. “Mmm...Sammy,” he breathed against the younger man's lips, slowly walking Sam back toward the wall.

A soft grunt escaped Sam when his back hit the wall. By the time he pulled away from Dean, he was panting out his breaths. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. Sam was just frozen to the spot. The last thing he wanted was to move too fast and spook Dean. After all, something had to have kept Dean away from him all of these years – _something_ had made Dean want to avoid this very situation. And Sam didn't want to bring that thing back to the surface. If Dean stopped right now, Sam was sure he would die.

Instead of stopping, Dean gripped the edges of his leather jacket, discarding the clothing into a pile on the floor. His flannel followed shortly after. A small smirk came to his lips when he realized that Sam had caught on and he was following suit, stripping himself out of his own clothes as well. It wasn't long before Dean was completely naked, chest rising and falling with each breath as he stared at an equally naked Sam.

He'd waited for this moment for so long. Dean just wanted to take a minute to drink it in. “Get on the bed, Sammy,” Dean finally breathed, moss green eyes following Sam's every movement. Once Sam was on the bed, Dean slowly moved to crawl between his legs, smirking up at the younger man. “In the drawer,” he instructed, nodding toward the nightstand. “See if there's any lube in there.” Skeezy motels always had lube in the drawers. After all, these types of places were known for their prostitution activities.

Once he had the lube in hand, Sam tossed it onto the bed beside them, his hands instantly moving to grope at Dean’s back, fingernails leaving half-moon shapes in Dean’s skin where Sam held on too tightly. Dean didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment, so Sam didn’t apologize. What he did do though was beg. This was moving too slowly and Sam wanted to feel Dean inside him. “Dean, please…” he breathed, nipping at Dean’s ear. “Want you inside me. Please?”

Of course, Dean had no objections to that. After all, that was the reason they were in this position. It had been the plan from the start. Grabbing the lube, Dean popped the cap and poured a liberal amount onto his fingers. Of course he knew he was going to have to go slowly. As far as he knew, Sam had never been with another man before. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt the younger man. Slowly, he pushed one finger into Sam’s tightly puckered hole, biting into his bottom lip to stifle a groan when the digit was engulfed in the tight heat. “Fuck Sam,” he breathed, licking his lips. “Have you ever done this before?”

The last thing he wanted to admit right now was that he was indeed a virgin – well, when it came to men, anyway. But he figured that Dean could tell because he was so tight. And yeah, he’d tried to finger himself once or twice, but he always chickened out because he thought it was going to hurt. And now he knew he had been right. It fucking _hurt_. Still, he wanted Dean to keep going. He wanted his first time to be with Dean. So he knew he couldn’t lie. And hell, as far as he was concerned, Dean would probably _like_ the fact that he'd never allowed another man to touch him. “N-No,” he answered, breaths coming out in stuttered pants as he tried to get over the initial pain. “B-But don’t stop. Want you to keep going. Please? Please don’t stop, Dean?”

How the hell was Dean supposed to argue with that? “Not gonna stop,” he assured Sam with a shake of his head, slowly pulling his finger almost completely out of Sam before pushing it back in. He did that a few more times before he added a second, giving Sam ample amount of time to adjust before he added a third. When Sam was able to take three fingers without resistance, Dean pulled his hand away, quickly lubing up his cock before he positioned himself by Sam’s entrance. “You ready baby?” he asked, fingers carding through Sam’s sweat damp hair.

All Sam could muster as a response was a shaky nod. Really, he did want this, but he was already so damn close to coming just from the preparation that Dean had given him. He was so hard that it was almost painful and Sam knew that once Dean was inside him, he wasn’t going to last much longer. And it was the most embarrassing thought that he’d ever had. But it wasn't like it was his fault! He hadn't been with anyone since Jess! And even then, she wasn't Dean – she could never be Dean.

Luckily, Sam hadn’t accounted for how much it was going to hurt. Even with the time Dean took to carefully prepare him for this, it hurt. Dean was so damn _big_! He thought that three fingers would have been enough to open him up for Dean’s cock, but he’d been wrong. His hands gripped at Dean’s shoulders, fingernails digging into the soft skin there as he breathed through the pain. 

It was slow going, Dean stopping every few inches to make sure Sam was all right. He stopped once he was fully sheathed inside Sam, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping himself from moving. Dean could see the pain on Sam’s face and he noticed that Sam’s erection had dwindled marginally, and he was wondering if this had been such a good idea. But they were too far to quit now. Sam would be fine after a few minutes – his body would adjust and they could continue where they left off. After all, Dean would never do anything to hurt Sam. 

Sure enough, after a few moments, Sam wiggled experimentally, breathing in a shocked gasp at the pleasure he felt now that he was used to the invasion. “Ungh…D-Dean, you can move now,” Sam explained, one hand moving to fist in Dean’s hair as he yanked him down into a heated kiss. 

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He kept his movements slow and gentle as he pulled almost all of the way out of Sam, sliding back in slowly, watching Sam’s reaction to his movements. Satisfied that Sam seemed to be enjoying himself, Dean repeated the action, moving just a bit faster – a little harder – this time. Again, Sam seemed to be fine with it, so Dean kept going until he was all but slamming his cock into Sam. 

And it felt good. It felt so fucking good. Sam was tight and he was gripping Dean’s cock just right on every thrust. Angling his hips, Dean smirked slightly when Sam gasped and then groaned in pleasure. The pure pleasure on Sam’s face let Dean know that he’d hit Sam’s sweet spot. So he did it again. And then again, one hand fisting in the sheets beneath Sam while the other fisted in Sam’s hair when Sam’s inner muscles clamped down on his dick just right. “Fuck, Sam,” he breathed, head dipping to nip and suck at Sam’s neck and shoulder.

Although his erection had dwindled down when Dean first pushed into him, Sam was fully erect once more, pre-cum leaking from the tip of his penis. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Dean hadn’t even touched his dick and Sam was going to blow his load. “Oh God, Dean,” he breathed, gripping Dean’s hips as he felt his balls draw up tight against his body. He came with a loud cry of pleasure, his back arching off the bed as he dragged Dean impossibly closer.

Sam’s orgasm caught Dean by surprise. He hadn’t even touched Sam and he was already coming. It actually stroked Dean’s ego a little bit. Well, that was until he felt Sam’s inner muscles clamping down around him, deliciously squeezing his dick and he was dragged over the edge right along with Sam. It was both a blessing a curse – on the one hand, Dean hadn't wanted it to end so soon, but on the other hand, it had all been well worth the wait.

A wide smile came to Dean's lips when Sam rolled onto his side, head resting on Dean's shoulder. “M'tired,” Sam mumbled, snuggling in closer to Dean. Slowly, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling the younger man impossibly closer. Gently, he pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead, whispering that Sam should get some sleep. Dean carded his fingers through Sam's hair as the younger man fell asleep, unable to wipe the huge grin off his face. Sam was _his_ – finally. And there was nothing anyone could do to take this away from them.

**~~**

Dean woke a few hours later the to the sound of his phone buzzing. He made sure to keep his movements slow and gentle as he unwrapped himself from Sam's embrace, making sure the younger man didn't wake up from his slumber. Once he had the phone in his hand, Dean headed into the bathroom where he could talk without disrupting Sam. “Ellen?” Dean answered, honestly a little surprised the woman was calling him. “What can I do for you?”

“Dean?” Ellen answered on the other line, her voice sounding almost relieved. “Where have you been? Your father has been looking for you. I've gotten multiple calls from him asking if I've heard from you. Is everything alright?”

So, Bobby was looking for him. It made sense. The other hunter had been calling him for a weeks now. And Dean had a feeling he wasn't alone. John Winchester probably came out of hiding too. But he couldn't be sure. “Yeah, I'm fine,” Dean assured the older woman. “I've just been busy. Hunting. Sammy and I are working a case.”

As Ellen spoke on the other line, Dean cracked the bathroom door, eyes landing on Sam's sleeping form. They were going to have to get out of here when Sam woke up. If Bobby was looking for them, there had to be a reason. And Dean would be damned if he let anyone try to take Sam away from him. Not again. “Yeah, Ellen, I'll get in touch with him,” Dean lied. “Of course. Yeah, it was good to hear your voice, too. I'll talk to you soon.”

After telling Ellen goodbye, Dean ended the call. Sighing, he headed into the main room of the motel once more, just as gingerly getting back into bed. He couldn't get his body to relax enough to fall asleep again, so he just watched over Sam until the sun came up and the younger man woke. “Morning baby,” Dean greeted, lips crushing against Sam's immediately. '”C'mon, we gotta get going. We can get breakfast on the way out of town. I think I just found us a case.”

**~~**

“They were definitely here,” John grumped as he pushed the door open to the motel room the clerk had directed them toward. “The clerk remembered them. He said that they just left a few hours ago.” Probably right around the time Ellen had called Dean. John had known that had been a bad idea. If they hadn't asked for Ellen's help, they may have caught up to them here.

Sighing, John turned on the light, shock clear on his face when he realized that there was only a king sized bed in the room. If Dean had touched his son, John was going to break all ten of his fingers before he killed him. “Call him again,” John ordered, unable to take his eyes off the bed. “See if he answers this time.”

Although Bobby had been calling Dean almost non-stop for weeks, he didn't argue. It was obvious that the king bed had John worked up – not that Bobby could blame him. In all of the other rooms, there had been two queens. This just meant that there was a possibility Sam and Dean's relationship was progressing. 

Much to Bobby's surprise, he got an answer this time. “Dean?” he asked, waving John over as he put the phone on speaker. “It sure is good to hear yer voice, son.” His eyes ticked up to meet John's as he ran his tongue over his suddenly too dry lips. “Where are you? I've been tryin' to call ya.”

Angrily, Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, eyes searching the parking lot as he waited for Sam to come out of the diner. “I know you have,” Dean answered. “I got an interesting call from Ellen this morning. She said that you've been looking for me. You haven't cared about my whereabouts in well over three years, _Dad_. Why now?”

The sneer could be heard in Dean's tone when he said the word “dad.” And it was true – Bobby and Dean hadn't seen eye-to-eye when Sam left for school, and they didn't talk much afterward. Before Bobby could answer however, John stepped in. “Because you have my son, you sick sonuvabitch,” John boomed. “And I know what you are. I know you _killed_ Jessica Moore. And when I find you, I'll make sure Sam knows, too.”

At John's words, Dean's anger spiked. How dare this bastard accuse him of shit. Sure, Dean may have had to get the girl out of the way, but he'd be damned if he would let John warp Sam's mind. “I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully,” Dean warned. “_Stop_ following us. Sammy and I are happy. He loves me. Just leave us the hell alone. Before I _make_ you leave us alone.”

Unable to hold back the scoff that erupted from him, John snarled, “Sam doesn't love you! He couldn't possibly!” Stepping closer to the phone, John promised, “I swear to God, if you touch him, I will kill you.”

“Why couldn't he?!” Dean spat, eyes landing on Sam as the younger man stood at the counter in the restaurant. “Because _you_ don't want him to? Newsflash, Winchester, Sam doesn't give a shit about what you want.” A small smile came to his lips as he watched Sam starting to make his way through the parking lot to the car. “As a matter of fact, did you find our king bed yet? We didn't have time to clean up the mess before we left. Mmm...Johnny, your little boy is a screamer. He loves it when I jerk my hips _just right_ – drives my Sammy wild.”

Before John had a chance to respond, Dean shoved the phone into the seat, making sure that the mic was still exposed as he watched Sam fold himself into the car. “So, they didn't have any apple pie,” Sam was muttering. “But I got you cherry, instead. It was all they had. I know. It sucks. But...you can just eat the crust.”

Making sure that the microphone was still in view, Dean smiled, leaning over into the center seat. “Cherry's fine, Sammy,” Dean assured the younger man. His eyes raked over Sam's tall frame, Dean biting into his bottom lip. “I honestly think _any_ flavor would taste delicious licking it off of you.”

Sam's cheeks burned red at the comment. “Um...y-yeah?” he asked, eyes ticking up to meet Dean's briefly before they locked on Sam's knees again. “Are-Are you going to have me for dessert, then? Is that...what you're saying.”

Fingers cupping Sam's cheek, Dean rubbed his thumb along the blush on Sam's cheeks. “Don't you want that, baby?” he asked, smiling when Sam stuttered his agreement. “Good. Kiss me.” He moaned softly with approval when Sam did as he was told, fingers fishing for the phone tucked into the seat moments before he finally disconnected the call.

Anger had John's blood boiling as he turned away from the phone, feeling his stomach flipping. If he'd had breakfast that morning, John was sure that it would be all over this motel room floor right now. “Please tell me he was on the line long enough for you to track him,” John all but begged, smiling when Bobby nodded. “Good. Let's get moving.”


	5. Chapter Five

Sam hissed in a breath as his back bowed, trying to get away from the red, sticky liquid dripping onto his bare skin. “S'cold, Dean,” Sam complained, breaths panting out of him as he tried to keep his body still. He could see that Dean was really enjoying coating him in the cherry filling from his pie, and Sam didn't want to ruin his fun. 

“It won't be in a minute,” Dean promised, eyes ticking up to meet Sam's briefly before he focused on coating Sam once more. After a few more minutes, Dean pulled back, straddling Sam's thighs as he looked down at his handy work. “Mmm...” he breathed, biting into his bottom lip. “You're beautiful, Sammy.”

At Dean's compliment, Sam's cheeks burned a bright red. Sam wasn't used to being doted on the way Dean doted on him. It was new. And honestly, it made him feel both extremely loved and a little uncomfortable. Sometimes, Sam knew that Dean could get a little out of hand – like when he'd killed Lee. But since Sam had said something about it, Dean hadn't done anything like that. And Sam was hoping they'd keep it that way. “Now that you've made me all cherry flavored, what are you gonna do about it?” Sam asked, biting into his bottom lip as he searched Dean's face.

A wide smile came to Dean's lips when Sam asked him what he was going to do about the cherry filling. Leaning in, hands pressed against the pillow at either side of Sam's head, Dean whispered, “You know what I'm going to do about it.” That was the only warning Sam got before Dean's tongue pressed against the younger man's flesh, lapping at the pie filling.

As Dean worked, Sam moaned with each touch of the older man's tongue. There was just something about the way Dean did things that made Sam go crazy with need. His cock was rock hard, pre-cum leaking from the slit as Sam tried to buck his hips against Dean – anything to get contact. “Dean...” Sam panted, champagne hazel eyes following Dean's movements. “Please...Dean...God.”

When Sam begged for him, Dean turned his attention to Sam's face. “Shhh, baby, m'gonna take care of you,” Dean promised. “Don't I always take care of you?” A wide smile split across Dean's face when Sam nodded, the younger man biting into his bottom lip once more as his hips bucked off the mattress. “Be patient, Sammy. Let me get this off of you.”

After a few more minutes, Dean crawled back up Sam's body, smiling at the younger man before he captured Sam's lips with his own. A low moan escaped Sam's throat when he kissed him, Dean swallowing it up in the kiss. Slowly, Dean's hand slid down the hard planes of Sam's body, stopping at his hip and giving a gentle squeeze. “I love you,” Dean whispered against Sam's lips when he broke the kiss. “You know that, right?”

Without hesitation, Sam nodded. “I know you do,” he assured Dean, hands moving to card his fingers through Dean's hair. Another moan broke from him when Dean crushed their lips together again, the older man's tongue pushing past Sam's lips to tangle with his own. By the time the kiss broke, Sam was panting out his breaths, chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

Slowly, Dean started working his way down Sam's body, lips pressing against Sam's skin on his way to his destination. “You're mine,” Dean whispered against Sam's skin, tongue darting out to lick a slippery trail down Sam's body. “All mine. Say it, Sammy.” When he finally reached his destination, Dean nuzzled against Sam's hard cock, eyes locked on the younger man as he waited for Sam to do as he was told.

Sam never understood how Dean expected him to form words when he was teasing him like this. “Mmhmm...” Sam mumbled, biting into his bottom lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to escape him when Dean squeezed his balls just this side of painful and ordered him to say it again. “I'm yours,” Sam assured him. “All yours.”

Pleasure washed over Sam when Dean rewarded him by taking his cock to the root into his mouth, cheeks hollowing out almost immediately. “Oh God, Dean,” Sam groaned, back arching off the bed for a moment before Dean pressed his hands against his hips, forcing Sam back down onto the bed. “Fuck...please?”

Another groan of pleasure slipped from Sam when Dean slipped two fingers inside his hole. Thankfully, he was still pretty loose from the night before, so the lack of proper preparation wasn't enough to make Sam erection dwindle. “Oh my God, Dean,” Sam breathed as Dean's free hand cupped his balls, massaging him playfully. “Don't stop...God, please don't stop.”

Slowly, Dean started bobbing on Sam's dick, pulling his mouth off almost completely before taking Sam back in the whole way. Dean's nose pressed against the wiry patch of hair surrounding Sam's cock just as he swallowed around Sam in his mouth, pulling Sam's orgasm from him unexpectedly. “Dean...fuck!” Sam cried as he shot his load down Dean's throat – he would have sworn that he'd seen stars. That was the first time he'd ever gotten to experience a blow job from Dean, and he definitely wasn't disappointed.

Pulling off, Dean wiped the small amount of cum that had dribbled out of his mouth off his lips with the back of his hand. His lips once again crushed against Sam's when he crawled up the younger man's body again. His tongue pushed into Sam's mouth once more, letting the younger man taste his own release on Dean's tongue. When Dean broke the kiss, Sam was panting out his breaths. “Just relax, baby,” Dean ordered. “S'my turn to cum.”

That was all the warning Sam got before Dean grabbed his leg and tossed it over his shoulder. Dean then made quick work of lubing up his cock, not sure how much longer he could wait to be inside Sam. He bit into his bottom lip once more when he lined himself up with his Sam's entrance, eyes locking with the younger man's. “Are you ready, baby?” he asked, wasting no time once he got the nod from Sam, the younger man's pleas turning Dean on even more.

He made sure to keep his movements slow at first, sliding into Sam ever so slowly so he didn't hurt the younger man. Dean never wanted to hurt Sam. When he was finally sheathed completely inside the younger man, Dean held still, not wanting to move before Sam had adequate time to adjust. “Tell me when I can move, baby,” Dean instructed, lips brushing against Sam's own.

The pain subsided marginally more quickly than it had the first time. After a few minutes, Sam gave an experimental wiggle, surprised when all he felt was pleasure spike through his body. “Y-Yeah, Dean,” Sam breathed, nodding emphatically. “You can move. Please...please move.” His pleas were cut off when Dean crushed their lips together once more.

Again, Dean's tongue was thrust inside Sam's mouth, forcing Sam's own tongue into a delicious dance. “Dean, please?” Sam begged, not even truly sure what it was that he was begging for. But Dean knew what he needed – Dean always knew what he needed.

Dean bit into the side of Sam's neck, tongue pressing against the bite almost immediately to ease the sting. “You're mine,” Dean assured him, breaths panting out of him as he pounded his hips against Sam's. “You love me. _Only_ me.” He reached for Sam's cock then, pleased to realize that the younger man was hard again so quickly after just having release.

His orgasm was quickly gaining on him as Dean rocked into him. The friction from Dean's belly against his balls and shaft were enough to drive Sam crazy. “Yes,” he promised, nodding emphatically. “I'm yours. Only yours. Ohmygod, please, Dean...m'close. Please?”

“Please what, baby?” Dean asked, smirking as he angled his hips to rock against Sam's prostate with each thrust. “Wanna cum, don't you?” Sam nodded, bringing another smile to Dean's lips. “Say it again,” he ordered. “Say it for me one more time, and I'll give you what you want. Always and forever, baby.”

Sam knew that Dean liked it when he told him stuff to make him realize that he was important to him. Honestly,, it wasn't like Sam could blame him. The life they lived, they lost people all of the time. It was no surprise that Dean had abandonment issues. “I'm yours, Dean. Always and forever.” Leaning in, Sam tried to kiss Dean, but Dean pulled back, nipping at Sam's bottom lip instead. 

That was enough to push Dean over the edge. He stripped his hand over Sam's cock faster, not stopping when Sam's cum started shooting from his slit in spurts. Once Sam was milked dry, Dean reached for the back of Sam's thigh, forcing his leg around him more tightly as he felt his balls drawing up close to his body. As he spilled his seed into Sam's body, Dean crushed their lips together once more, allowing his moans of pleasure to be swallowed up in the kiss.

When his orgasm finally subsided, Dean almost forgot to roll off of Sam. Luckily, at the last minute, he collapsed onto his back beside the younger man so he didn't crush him under his weight. Dean could have fallen asleep right then and there if he really wanted to. But movement from the other side of the bed drew his attention back to Sam. “What're you doin' baby?” he asked when he realized Sam was getting up. 

A small smile came to Sam's lips when Dean asked what he was doing. “Dean, I'm a mess,” Sam explained. “I have...cherry filling and cum all over me. I'm gonna take a shower.” With that, Sam gathered up some clean clothes before he disappeared into the bathroom. 

Hearing he water turn on, Dean rolled off the bed with a sigh. They needed to get out of here. After all, Dean wasn't stupid. He was on the phone with John and Bobby for quite a while earlier that day. He knew they both had the means to track a call. Hell, depending on where John and Bobby had been, there was a chance they were already in this town looking for Sam. And Dean would be damned if he allowed John to take Sam away from him. Sam was _his_, dammit.

Quickly, Dean grabbed their bags and started tossing their clothing into them. As soon as Sam was out of the shower, they needed to be on the road. However, a few minutes after he started packing, Dean's plans were thrown off kilter.

Outside, he heard the familiar rumble of John Winchester's pick up truck. Quickly, Dean changed tactics. Slipping into the bathroom, Dean stripped out of his clothes. If he was in here with Sam when they came in, they'd have to wait for them to come out. After all, Dean knew John wasn't going to walk in here on anything potentially sexual. There was no getting that out of your head once it was planted there. 

When Dean climbed into the shower with Sam, the younger man jumped. “Dean,” he hissed. “You scared the crap outta me.” Sam's eyes slipped closed when Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to his neck. “Dean...c'mon, we just had sex. There's no way we can do it again.”

“Are you sure about that, Sammy?” Dean asked, taking it as a challenge almost. “I think we can, baby.” Slowly, Dean rocked his hips against Sam, rolling their bodies together. He felt the younger man's spent cock twitch against him, bringing another smile to his lips. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

Meanwhile, John and Bobby had picked the lock to the room and were quietly making their way inside. John's heart sank once more when he saw that the room only contained a king bed. The sheets were a mess, so he knew someone had been in that bed recently. The Impala was outside, so he also knew that at least one of the boys were in this room.

The shower was running, so John knew he had at least a few minutes to snoop around the room. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see. Sam and Dean's clothes were strewn about the room, and there was an empty pie box sitting on the table. Sam's laptop was open, so Bobby went to investigate Sam's browser history while John searched the closets. 

After a few more minutes, the hunters heard the water shutting off, letting them know the boys would be coming out of the bathroom soon. As the door opened, John raised his pistol, ready to shoot if he had to. 

Sam emerged from the bathroom first, jumping slightly when he realized there was a gun pointed right at him. When Sam saw who was holding the gun, his cheeks turned bright red. He couldn't even look his father in the eye. “Dad?” he asked, eyes ticking to glance at Bobby behind him. “What are you doing here? I-I thought you were on a hunting trip and didn't want to be found.” At least that's what he'd learned when he went to Bobby's house all of those months ago.

Beside him, Sam felt Dean standing tall – and close. So close that their arms were brushing against each other. He could feel Dean's eyes on him – raking over him like they always did – and his cheeks burned even brighter.

“I was on a hunting trip,” John answered with a small nod. “But then I heard what happened to you, and I came back. I've been trying to get a hold of you for months, Sam. Your phone just keeps going to voicemail. I was worried about you, son.”

Brows knit in confusion, Sam shook his head. “I-I lost my phone,” Sam explained. “I had to get a new one when I started hunting with Dean.” All of this was so confusing. Sam didn't understand why his father was so worried about him now. He hadn't been worried about him for years while he was at Stanford. And now that he was here with Dean, it was a big issue. “You broke in to our motel? You couldn't just call Dean?”

Anger spiked inside John when Sam said Dean's name. He'd honestly almost forgotten that Dean was even here. He was just so happy to see that Sam was safe. And he was alive. And as far as John could tell, nothing bad had happened to the younger Winchester. “I've _been_ calling Dean,” John explained. “I've called Dean almost every day since you left school. He never answers his phone.”

Confusion warred inside of Sam once more. There was no reason for Dean not to answer his phone when John called. But that wasn't important right now. All Sam wanted to do was figure out why John was here. However, before Sam could ask anymore questions, John was barking orders – just like he always did.

John made sure that his gun was pointed at Dean just in case he tried anything. “Sam, I need you to come with me,” John explained. “I came here to get you. I want you to come hunt with me. Dean is...he's dangerous. I don't think you understand the whole story, Sam.”

Dangerous? Dean? He'd been nothing but helpful to Sam from the minute he'd picked him up from Stanford. “Dean would never hurt me,” Sam argued, shaking his head. “I don't know what you're talking about. But I'm not leaving. I'm staying here with Dean.”

Again, anger bubbled up inside John. He couldn't believe that his own son was going to disobey him _again_! Especially when all John was trying to do was help Sam! “Don't talk back to me, boy!” John ordered, unable to keep his anger at bay. “I gave you an order! So follow it!”

Before Sam had a chance to say anything else, Dean stepped in front of him, blocking him from John. “He said he's staying with me!” Dean barked. “You think you're just going to waltz in here after almost four years and just expect Sam to follow you like a good little soldier? Sammy would _never_ leave me. He _chose_ to be here with me. I told you on the phone that we just wanted to be left alone, John. So I'm going to suggest that you leave.”

When John made no move to do as he was told, Dean grew angrier. “Leave now,” he warned. Still, John made no move to do as he was told. Dean's anger was growing by the minute. So much so that his body was visibly shaking. “Leave on your own, or I will _make_ you leave.”

While everyone's attention was on John, Bobby was gearing up to take his shot. They'd known coming into this that Dean wasn't going to let Sam go without a struggle. And because Dean was his son, there was no way he was going to let anything bad happen to him. But a tranquilizer wouldn't hurt him – not too badly at least. Sure, it would hurt going in, and it would make him tired as hell, but he'd still be alive.

Bobby took his shot as soon as he saw an opening, his heart breaking when Dean turned his sad, shocked eyes on him. Bobby could see the betrayal clear in the depths of Dean's moss green eyes as he pulled the dart from his shoulder where it had made contact. Sam caught Dean as he fell, helping him to gently lay on the ground.

As soon as Dean was groggy enough that he wouldn't be able to hinder John's plans to get Sam away from him, the older Winchester made his move. Quickly, his hand wrapped around Sam's bicep, pulling Sam out of the room. The last thing Dean saw was John forcing Sam into the truck before his world went black.


	6. Chapter Six

Dean groaned loudly as he began to wake up, blinking against the pain in his head. “Sammy?” Dean mumbled, lifting his head off the floor slightly before dropping back down. The action just made searing pain shoot through his head and made him feel like his eyes were going to explode. “Sam?!” There was no response, which had Dean's breath kicking up a notch.

Slowly, the events of the hours leading up to Sam's disappearance started coming back to Dean. John and Bobby had been here. John tried to take Sam away from him, but Sam wouldn't go. And Dean had tried to make John leave – he was protecting Sammy. Then he'd been hit with something sharp in the shoulder that made him feel groggy and sleepy – a tranquilizer. Bobby – his own father – had shot him. And then they'd taken Sam. 

_They'd taken Sam._ Pushing through the pain, Dean forced his body off the ground. It had been late afternoon when Sam was taken, and the sun was down now, so Dean knew that he'd lost a lot of time. And he wasn't an idiot – there was no way Bobby or John were going to answer their cell phones if he called. They had Sam, so there was no reason for them to speak to Dean.

Anger bubbled up inside of Dean as he paced the room. Where the hell would they take him? Dean had no idea where to even start looking. He'd spent the last four years trying to get back to Sam after the younger man had left for college, only to lose him again to his own father. No – Dean wasn't about to let that happen. He just needed a plan. Once he had a plan, everything would be fine. He'd find Sam, and they could get away from here and be fine.

Unable to control his emotions any longer, Dean started to tear apart the room. He smashed the mirrors and knocked over the lamps before he swept the television off the stand, not even flinching when it shattered at his feet. His eyes landed on the bed then, remembering what he and Sam had done there just hours earlier. Angrily, he stormed to the mattress, ready to rip it apart as well. However, his eyes landed on his cell phone then. 

Suddenly, Dean had an idea. It was dark, and Sam probably wouldn't like it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Collecting his belongings, Dean stormed out of the room, tossing the key onto the floor. The clerk could charge the credit card he'd given him for the damage – Dean didn't much care at this point.

Within minutes, Dean was inside the Impala, speeding off toward central Nebraska. He drove through the night, only stopping when he needed to gas up his baby. After all, he'd been passed out for hours earlier, so it wasn't like he needed sleep. His _father_ had made sure he got enough rest to last him a few days.

When he finally made it to the Roadhouse, Ellen Harvelle was just closing up the place. “Are you sure you don't have time for one beer?” Dean asked, flashing her a smile when she turned her attention to him. After she assured him that she always had time for a Singer, she slid him a beer as he took a seat. He was in. Now, it was just a matter of time before he could let his plan unfold.

It wasn't hard to sweet talk Ellen and her daughter Jo. Dean was smart. He got the drop on Ellen first, incapacitating the older woman before he managed to get Jo under control. Once Jo was tied down, Dean did the same to her unconscious mother, smirking at her when she started to wake up. He made sure to only secure one of her hands – she was going to need the other one. “Morning, sunshine,” he greeted, reaching into her pocket and digging out her cell phone. “I need you to do me a favor and call my dad.”

“What?” Ellen asked, obviously still feeling the blow Dean had landed. “What are you doing? Dean, let us go.” When Dean merely shook his head and ordered her to call Bobby again, Ellen steeled her features. “Let us go, Singer!”

Anger bubbled up inside Dean when Ellen refused to do as she was told. He didn't understand why people weren't listening to him these days. It just made everything so much harder for them in the long run. “Call my father,” Dean ordered once more. Again, Ellen just glared at him. Shrugging, Dean pulled his pistol from his waistband, moving to stand next to Jo. Placing the barrel of the gun to Jo's temple, Dean felt a jolt of pleasure run through his body when she cried out. “Call him, or I'll kill your daughter.”

The panic was clear in Ellen's voice when she screamed for Dean to wait. Finally, she did what she was told. “Put it on speaker phone,” Dean ordered, watching as the older woman did as she was told. When Bobby answered, Dean cut Ellen off so she couldn't speak. “Dad, it's me,” he answered. “I think you'll be very interested to hear that I have Ellen and Jo Harvelle.”

When Bobby asked what he was doing, Dean rolled his eyes, listening as his father asked him what was wrong with him. “You _know_ what's wrong!” Dean hissed. “I want Sam. And you and John are going to bring him to me.” He heard John argue in the background that he wasn't bringing his son there, but Dean merely rolled his eyes again. “If you don't bring me Sam back, I'll kill Ellen and Jo. And their blood will be on your hands.” Moving toward Ellen, Dean grabbed the phone from her and placed it against his ear, taking it off speaker. “Is that what you want, Dad?”

Much like Ellen, when Bobby spoke, the panic was clear in his voice. “Alright, son,” Bobby agreed, eyes ticking to John and then Sam. “We're headed your way now. We won't be able to get there before first light. Just don't hurt them until we get there, alright?”

Although Dean wanted Sam right now, he knew that the men were probably high tailing it as far away as they possibly could once they took Sam. So, Dean knew he'd have to wait. “If you're not here by 5 AM, I'll kill them,” he warned. With that, Dean hung up the phone, placing it on the counter just out of reach from Ellen. Smiling at the women, Dean took a seat at the bar. “And now, we wait.”

At around 4:30 in the morning, the door to the Roadhouse opened and Bobby stepped inside. But he wasn't followed by Sam. In fact, he'd come in alone. “Where's Sam?” Dean asked, glaring at his father as he made his way toward them. “That's far enough. Where is Sam?”

Luckily, when Dean spoke, Bobby listened, not making a move to walk any closer to the captive women in the room. “He's outside in the car, son,” Bobby explained, eyes ticking from Jo to Ellen before they landed on Dean once more. “I didn't want him to see what you were doin' to our friends. I thought maybe we could talk first.”

No part of Dean was interested in talking at the moment. “I don't want to talk,” Dean assured Bobby. “What I want...is Sam. And I thought I was _very_ clear about that on the phone. So, stop stalling, and bring me Sam.” When Bobby tried to speak to Dean again, it just made him angry. Without hesitation, Dean raised his pistol, aimed it at Jo, and pulled the trigger. The bullet penetrated her abdomen, causing her to cry out. Ellen screamed as she watched her daughter begin to bleed. “I said...bring me Sam,” Dean repeated. 

This time, Bobby did as he was told. Dean waited impatiently as Bobby retrieved the younger man. As soon as Bobby walked back into the Roadhouse, Dean felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. “Sammy,” he breathed, eyes locked on his lover. Behind Sam, John walked in, causing Dean to be on red alert again. Quickly, Dean waved his hand, letting Sam know he wanted him to come to him.

Without hesitation, Sam did as he was told, Dean's arms immediately wrapping around the younger man. Pulling back, Dean cupped Sam's cheeks in his hands, eyes searching the younger man's face. “Are you okay, Sammy?” Dean asked, not relaxing until Sam gave him a nod. His eyes then landed on John, Dean instinctively pushing Sam behind himself. “You're going to let me and Sammy leave. And you're not going to follow us this time. You're going to leave us the hell alone.”

“You know I'm not going to let that happen,” John assured Dean, shaking his head. “He's my son. And you know that I will do anything in my power to protect him.” John's eyes ticked to Jo, noticing the young woman probably needed some medical attention.

Dean laughed humorlessly when John told him that he'd do anything in his power to protect Sam. “Protect him?!” Dean scoffed. “You've done _nothing_ in his whole life to protect him! _I_ have! _I_ protect Sammy! I always have! What the hell does he need you for?!”

Unable to hide his anger, John yelled, “He needs protection _from you_, Dean!” He knew that he shouldn't have said anything, but he just couldn't keep himself in check anymore. “Sam doesn't need to be around you! And when he is, he's in danger! And as his father, I can not allow that to happen! So, no, I won't let you take him.”

Anger had Dean seeing red as John spoke. Sam needed protection from him?! That was laughable! There was really only one way this was going to end. John was never going to let him take Sam. Dean wasn't stupid – he knew that. So, John had to go. And when he killed John, Bobby would want revenge for his friend. So, Bobby had to go too. And then Ellen and Jo would have to die also. Well, Dean was pretty sure Jo wasn't going to make it without medical attention, but putting her out of her misery was the right thing to do. And Sam liked it when he did the right thing.

Mind made up, Dean raised his pistol once more, aiming for John's head. However, before he could pull the trigger, Sam gripped his arm, tugging roughly so his aim was off. “Dean, no!” Sam argued, stepping between Dean and John. “Dean, please, listen to me. He's human – we don't kill humans, remember?”

Although he knew Sam hated it when he killed humans, sometimes it was necessary. And Sam would see that when they were out of this damn Roadhouse and back on the highway. “Sammy, he's never going to let us go,” Dean tried to explain. “Even if he doesn't catch us for years, he'll never leave us alone. He'll never let you be with me. We'll spend the rest of our lives running from him.”

Cupping Sam's cheek, Dean smiled softly at the younger man. “C'mon, baby, get out of the way,” he gently coaxed. When Sam didn't listen, Dean started to become annoyed. “Sammy, get out of the way. Say goodbye to your dad. We need to clean up loose ends and get the hell out of here.”

Before Dean knew what was happening, the Roadhouse door was being kicked in. A hard jab to the ribs had Dean dropping his gun, confused moss green orbs locked on Sam as the younger man kicked Dean's gun away from him. “Sammy?” Dean breathed, confusion warring inside of him.

Moments later, Dean's hands were wrenched behind his back and handcuffs were being slapped on his wrists. “Dean Winchester, you are under arrest for the murders of Jessica Moore and Detective Lee Bender,” one of the FBI agents explained. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

**~~**

It felt like hours had passed since Dean had been brought down the station and shoved into this tiny interrogation room. He was starting to go stir crazy. Of course, that was one of the police officer's tactics. Dean knew them almost as well as he knew his weapons. All he had to do was wait this out. And the longer he waited, the more they expected him to sweat. But he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

Finally, one of the agents walked into the room. Dean recognized him as the man who had read him his rights – Agent Victor Henriksen he'd introduced himself as. Watching the man take his seat across the table, Dean locked eyes with him, not showing the agent any emotion. “I wanna see Sam,” Dean immediately demanded. “You've kept me in here for hours. And I have the right to a phone call. I wanna call Sam.”

“No,” Henriksen snapped back. “You and I are going to have a little chat first. And if I feel like you've earned your phone call at the end of this interview, then maybe I'll give it to you. But you are not to contact Sam Winchester. Do you understand me?”

Scoffing, Dean shook his head, shoving himself back into his chair. “You can't stop me from talking to Sam,” Dean assured the agent. He didn't understand why the damn universe was working against him all of a sudden. He'd finally had everything he wanted, and the universe was trying so hard to take it all away from him. He deserved to be happy, dammit! “Sammy will want to talk to me. You can't deny him that right.”

Henriksen stared at Dean in confusion as he spoke. The man clearly was suffering some kind of mental break. Honestly, he felt a little bad for him. “Do you even know what you did?” Henriksen asked, watching as Dean eyed him suspiciously. “I can assure you that Sam Winchester wants _nothing_ to do with you, Dean.”

Again, Dean felt the anger bubbling up inside of him. “What the hell are you talking about?” Dean demanded. “You're lying. You're trying to get inside my head. Well, it's not going to work. Sammy loves me. And there's nothing _anyone_ can do to change that.” Nodding, Dean glared at Henriksen. “He'll come for me.”

Now, it was utterly clear to Henriksen that Dean didn't know what he had been doing for the last few months. Either that, or this was a damn good tactic to get a deal if he plead insanity. “You kidnapped Sam from school, Dean!” Henriksen explained. “You took his life away from him! His free ride to the next semester! His future plans of being a lawyer! You _destroyed_ that for him!”

Although the last thing Dean wanted was to show this bastard emotion, he couldn't help but lose his head when Henriksen started badmouthing his and Sam's relationship. “You're lying!” Dean argued, slamming his fists against the table. “Sam came with me willingly. He _asked_ to come with me!”

Instead of answering Dean, Henriksen slammed file folders onto the table next to Dean's fists. Ripping them open, Henriksen explained, “You killed Jessica Moore! In her apartment that she shared with Sam. While Sam watched the whole thing. You then took Sam on the road with you.” Ripping another file folder open, Henriksen continued. “A few months later, Sam got away from you. He found a detective who was willing to help him. Detective Lee Bender – do you remember him, Dean? You gouged out his eyes. And cut off his hands. And then castrated him before you finally killed him. And then when Sam was rescued by his father, you threatened to kill him, too. Oh, and you almost killed Joanna Beth. She's fine though, in case you care.”

As Henriksen spoke, Dean started to remember. Images of Sam crying and begging him to stop came into his mind, memories flooding through his head like a dam had been broken. He'd gone to Sam's apartment in Palo Alto that night and tried to get Sam to leave with him. But Sam had Jessica – Sam had a life there. So when he was told no, Dean snapped.

Now that Dean remembered everything, he needed to find Sam more than ever. He needed to explain to the younger man that this is what was best. He only wanted what was best for Sam. And Dean was it. Angrily, he glared up at Henriksen. “You can't keep me away from Sam,” he warned the other man, watching him closely as Henriksen exited the room.

He had only been gone for a moment, but when he went back to collect his files and take an official statement from Dean, the other man was gone. Panic slammed into Henriksen as he ran out of the room. “Dean Singer escaped!” Henriksen shouted. “I want men on every corner! He couldn't have gotten far! And someone get me Sam Winchester on the line!”

**~~**

** Three Months Later **

Dean watched as a tall man exited his motel room, locking the door behind himself. The man glanced around the parking lot, almost looking as if he was worried he was being followed as he pushed his long bangs out of his face. Dean remembered what that hair felt like all of those times he'd gotten to run his fingers through it.

It had been a grueling three months since Dean had been able to touch Sam. But he was getting closer every day. He'd stayed back and done some recon for a while. Otherwise, Dean could have had Sam months ago. After all, it wasn't hard to track someone down when your job required you to do it on a daily basis. 

While he was doing his research, Dean had learned that John had been taken out by the very same demon who killed his wife, leaving Sam alone to finish the mission. Sam still spoke to Dean's father on occasion, but it wasn't enough to be worried about it. Ellen and Jo were also in the picture still, but again, not enough to be a threat. Mostly, Sam stuck to himself these days. He moved from town to town working cases, and he never got close to anyone. Dean liked to think it was because he was waiting for him to come back.

When Sam climbed into his rental car, Dean fired up the engine of his own car. His baby was stashed just a few miles down the road. After all, Sam knew the Impala – it wasn't exactly inconspicuous. So he had a rental, for this particular task. He'd go get his baby once he had Sam where he wanted him.

Slowly, Dean pulled the car out onto the road behind Sam. After months of just watching – wishing that he could be wrapped up in Sam's body like he'd been just months earlier – Dean was ready. It was finally time to bring his Sammy home.


End file.
